
Class _JI1^1A_1 

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Copyright ]\^^ 

CDPHRIGHT DEPOSrr. 



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a train about to leavk for thf kron i on 
Christmas morninc 

'We decorated each coach door with a bunch of mistletoe and 
a French flag." See page loi. 



YOU 
WHO CAN HELP 

PARIS LETTERS OF AN 

AMERICAN ARMY OFFICER'S WIFE 

AUGUST, I916 — JANUARY, I918 

BY 

Mary Smith Churchill 

ILLUSTRATED FROM PHOTOGRAPHS 
BY THE AUTHOR 




BOSTON 

SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 



Copyright, 191 8 

By small, MAYNARD & COMPANY 
(incorporated) 







rp'^ 



5 1918 



'Ci.A499694 



.1 1 n I 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Pace 
A train about to leave for the front on 

Christmas morning. Frontispiece "^ 

At the headquarters of " The American 
Fund for French Wounded " at the 

Alcazar 42 w 

Mollie and her filleul 84 

Photographs of the result of treatment / 

with ambrine 152 

Mme. Carrel 168 

Ruins of the Mairie at Chauny ^94 

" Here we were in lines the Germans held 

for two years and a half " 198 "^ 

" No Man's Land " between Noyon and 

Vic-sur-Aisne 202 

On the way from Serancourt to Roupy . . 208 

A woman receiving a rabbit at Brouchy . 224 / 

Ruins of a house in Roye 232 

" We found Roye very much in ruins " . 250 

Diplome de belle action 270 ^ 



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YOU WHO CAN HELP 

Paris, August 9, 19 16. 

After we sighted land, It was only a 
matter of a couple of hours before we ar- 
rived at the mouth of the Gironde, fas- 
cinating with two tall lighthouses on either 
side of the entrance. The country side, 
too, was fascinating, with everything won- 
derful and green, the shores white with 
sand and big chateaux here and there with 
red roofs. 

It was about a five-hour trip up the river, 
— a river filled with boats and a few tor- 
pedo boats. At the mouth of the river we 
lost our convoy of seven torpedo boats. 
We docked at Bordeaux about eleven at 
night, but no one was there except the 
usual men about a dock, and no one was 
allowed to land. 

At the right of the dock we could see a 
huge German prison camp, which was tre- 
mendously interesting to watch from the 
boat. Moll was sound asleep when we 
docked, and I turned in about midnight, 
deciding that Marlborough was probably 

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coming down on the night train from 
Paris. This he did. He arrived about 
nine Monday morning, and you know our 
joy of seeing him. He used his military 
pass, and was allowed to walk right 
aboard. 

We left the ship about noon; his pass 
caused only a chalk mark on all my lug- 
gage and nothing was opened. I never 
saw so much wine in my life as we saw 
there; there were squares where there were 
millions of casks, and trucks and wagons 
filled with nothing else on the streets. We 
went to a hotel which was fascinating, but 
reminded me so much of Manila. There 
we stayed until train time. Our first 
glimpse of soldiers was in Bordeaux, which 
seemed full of them, hundreds just back 
from the trenches, with their horizon-blue 
uniforms and their trench helmets, and all 
covered with white dust as to boots and 
clothes, and endless others who were just 
going back to the battle front. 

We took the one o'clock train and were 
fortunate in getting a compartment to our- 
selves, so that the nine hours on the train, 
although hot, passed quickly. At every 
station officers and soldiers of every Allied 
country got on and off, and at the stations 

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Red Cross nurses were there with food, 
water, and aid for any who wished it. It 
was all tremendously impressive. 

We arrived in Paris at ten-thirty and 

were met by Captain and Mrs. B , 

who had a car and brought us up here to 
this hotel, where Marlborough had moved 
a week ago. It is on rue Belloy, on one 
corner of the Place Etats-Unis. 

Yesterday morning after our breakfast 
in our rooms, Marlborough went for the 
trunks and Moll and I wandered out down 
avenue Kleber to the Arc de Triomphe. 
We lunched here early and had fine things 
to eat, but so much ! I shall be fat in a 
week, stuffing in this fashion. After lunch- 
eon we wandered out to the shopping dis- 
trict, where I purchased two lovely hand- 
made waists, at about 24 francs each, 
which these days means $4. Lack of hav- 
ing any fresh waists but what I had on 
made this purchase necessary. 

At four we went to the Cafe de la Paix. 
Never could I tell you of the procession of 
uniforms which went by. Before the war 
apparently Paris was filled with Ameri- 
cans, Germans, English, and everything 
else; now it seems nothing but French, 
and absolutely everything breathes of the 

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war, which is going on only sixty miles 
away. The wounded are everywhere and 
military motors are dashing along with 
men in uniforms, on every street. And 
nearly every woman not in black is with 
a man in uniform. But everywhere are 
women with their French mourning, a long 
crepe veil, too pathetic, as you see them 
by the score. 

Marlborough received orders this morn- 
ing to go to the front for about five days 
on the 19th, this time to Verdun. So in the 
next ten days I have to do some map study 
and some electric-car and metro study. 

Paris is wonderful. I am impressed 
with the vastness and solidity of all the 
buildings. They look as if they were built 
once and for all time. We are about to 

take tea with the C s somewhere. 

My love to you all and I wish you all 
could see and feel the war spirit of this 
wonderful city. 



[ 6 ] 



Paris, Augiist 12, 1916. 

If I could only remember to buy a pen 
how much happier I should be; this French 
one looks like a flamingo's beak. 

Thursday morning Mrs. B came 

in her sister's large limousine and took 
Moll and me to see the apartment at 3 rue 
Verdi again. We were more delighted 
than ever with it. In the afternoon we left 

cards for Admiral and Mrs. C and 

Mr. and Mrs. H . This French cus- 
tom of making the first call is too curious, 
but I suppose I shall get used to it: the 
stranger has to make the first call. Then 
we stopped at the Terrace Cafe Fouquet, 
and such a sight, — uniforms and medals. 

Yesterday was Marlborough's birthday, 
the first we had celebrated together for a 

good many years. At noon C blew 

in, looking stunning in his Belgian uni- 
form. He quite insisted that we lunch 
with him, but as it was his last day with 
his family, before going back to the front, 
I would n't hear of it. 

As we were dining out, I had a birthday 
luncheon for Marlborough and Moll at 
Petit Durand, a marvelous spot, with won- 

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derful food. The place was filled with 
ofEcers and American Ambulance men. 

At six we asked C to meet us at 

Fouquet's. Captain B joined us, 

and we sat for about an hour listening 

to C 's tales. He had his curious 

" truck-effect " automobile he came in from 
the front and he took us down to the 
Embassy and then brought us up here. 
Moll was waiting here for our return and 
was thrilled to see us come flying up in this 
great war car. She got in with us and had 
Marlborough take a picture. 

At eight we dined with Mr. and Mrs. 

H , and their son who is a captain in 

the British service at the Plaza Hotel. 
The other guests were Sir Thomas Bar- 
clay and Captain and Mrs. S of the 

Marine Corps. The latter was an opera 
singer, belonging to the Theatre-Comique 
here. For five years she was in comic 
opera with Francis Wilson and the last five 
or six years has been starring in Grand 
Opera in Paris and on the continent, 
known as Mme. Sylva. She interested me 
hugely and is beautiful to look at. She 
told me to come and have tea with her 
Tuesday and she would sing for me. 

The H s are fine, and young H 

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looked very smart in a perfectly new 
British captain's uniform. He is the 
man who stood in water for seventy- 
six hours, laying the cable, that Marlbo- 
rough wrote to me about before I came 
over. A few months ago, as he was sit- 
ting in his room in Ypres dining with two 
friends, with his dog at his feet and a 
Tommy servant standing behind him, an 
aeroplane dropped a bomb on the house, 
killed his two friends and the Tommy serv- 
ant. Needless to say the little cur dog is 
his best friend and he was with him last 
night. You could hardly believe half of 
the tales he has to tell. We had a marvel- 
ous dinner and a wonderfully good time; 
everyone is so interesting. 

To-day we lunched with Captain and 

Mrs. P . When we go out, one of 

the two women who own this little place 
eats with Moll. She speaks English. 
Last night she took Moll out on the ave- 
nue du Bois dc Boulogne after dinner, and 
she is going to take her out again to-night, 

as we dine with Major L . I feel that 

I am living in quite a social whirl, but it is 
just a case of another American turning 
up, and Marlborough's friends are doing 
many nice things for me. 

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You Who Can Help 

We have decided to take the wonderful 
apartment at 3 rue Verdi which is on the 
Bois, off rue Henri Martin. 

I stopped writing here yesterday for so 
many aeroplanes were flying over our 
heads that I just had to hang out on the 
balcony. When you see them in bunches 
it is quite thrilling. 

Last night we dined with Major L 

at D'Armenonville. Is n't that a marvel- 
ous place? It was a glorious night with a 
full moon, and the place was a picture. 
With the time changed it is fairly light at 
eight o'clocic, but as soon as it got dark 
and the place rather brilliantly illuminated, 
they stretched, like drop curtains on a 
stage, big curtains all along the front and 
across the entrance, and from an outer row 
of trees surrounding the place, to shield 
the light from being a brilliant spot for 
the German aeroplanes. You understand 
these curtain effects are not within fifty or 
a hundred yards of the pavillion, for of 
course at this season practically all the 
tables are in the garden. It has wonder- 
ful food but, I imagine, wonderful prices 
as well. 

After dinner we motored in the Bois 

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and then down town to see Notre Dame 
by moonlight; It was glorious. 

Paris is wonderful. The atmosphere 
of being in this place with the nation at 
war, is something indescribable. I wish 
you were all here to feel it. 

This letter is somewhat disconnected, 
but I write at odd moments when I have 
the chance; when I get into my own home 
I shall try and do better. 



[ " ] 



4 RUE Belloy, Paris, August i8, 191 6. 

You see we are still here although we 
took over the keys to our apartment yes- 
terday and moved our trunks there. I 
wish you could have seen us in the act of 
moving, — one horse in a tiny coupe, and 
the three of us, and on top my two trunks, 
Marlborough's long uniform trunk, his 
steamer trunk and two field lockers. 

Moll and I are to stay here over Sun- 
day, and Marlborough leaves for the 
front, Bar-le-Duc and Verdun in the morn- 
ing, and will return in a week. In the 
meantime Moll and I will try and have 
our new apartment running smoothly, and 
a home of our own in Paris established. 

I find I can get about without any 
trouble in the metro and surface cars, and 
yet I expect to get lost and find myself 
many times this next week. I find that 
looking about for small but necessary 
household things takes more time, and 
more French, than doing any sight-seeing. 

I had to use the pocket dictionary, all 
my French and fluent use of both hands, to 
buy and have sent two dozen coat-hangers. 

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You Who Can Help 

If I had lived at a house number higher 
than ten I could n't have had anything 
sent. To-day I had to go back and get 
some more, but my French was so fluent 
the man looked alarmed! 

I must go back to Sunday when I finished 
a disconnected letter to Esther. That day 
at three we took a funny little train out to 

Beaucrisson where the M 's car met 

us, and we motored to Salle St. Cloud to 
their beautiful country-place. They asked 
us out for tea and for supper, and we had 
a most delightful time. Moll had a glori- 
ous time with the three children, two boys 
and a girl. We took the nine o'clock train 
back, having had a delightful Sunday in 
the country, and as it was rather hot we 
appreciated it all the more. 

Monday I was delighted to have dis- 
covered a wonderful French cook, with 
excellent references, though she could n't 
speak a word of English. I engaged her 
and had her meet me at the apartment to 
see what was needed. I listed what she 
wanted, told her to stock the house and 
to expect Moll and me for luncheon on 
Monday. I was greatly relieved, but yes- 
terday she sent word to me that she had a 
chance to take a position with a duchess, 

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You Who Can Help 

which speaks for Itself, and I am still look- 
ing for another French treasure. So my 
first French cook left before she came, 
which sounds Irish! Monday afternoon 

we went to Mrs. M 's for tea. She is 

at 3 rue Verdi, and it is her daughter's 
apartment we have taken, 

Tuesday was Assumption Day, and 
everything was closed as it was a feast day. 
In the afternoon we took a boat up the 
Seine to Chatelet, and then hoped to go 
inside Notre Dame, but we could n't get 
in, so we wandered along Boulevard St. 
Michel and got another type of Parisian 
life which was most entertaining. We sat 
down in one of those terrace restaurants, 
and watched the procession of curiosities. 
Moll knew some of them were dressed up 
in fancy dress ! But just when you are 
amused at some freak woman, comes this 
never-ending procession of cripples, arm- 
less, legless, and blind and distorted faces. 
Oh, it is so pathetic, yet they all look cheer- 
ful. Often you see both an arm and a leg 
gone, and the other day in the Bois three 
soldiers and a girl were driving by, and 
one man had both legs and one arm gone, 
yet they were all happy and jolly and glad 
to be alive. 

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Wednesday I spent in shops and engag- 
ing a housemaid. I have one Mrs. M 

recommended; she is English, — that is 
her father was; her mother was a Russian, 
and she has always lived in France, — 
some combination ! She speaks French 
but can speak. English, is about forty, and 
has been a nursery governess at times, so 
will be excellent in taking Moll about and 
to school, and to see the girls. I don't 
believe this one will forsake me for a 
duchess, but at present I have n't a cook in 
sight. 

In the evening Tom R met us at 

Fouquet's and dined with us at St. Cecile. 
After dinner we went to the Rotonde to 
see a little touch of Latin Quarter life. 
But at ten-thirty Paris absolutely closes; 
not only bars but everything closes its 
doors and every light is out. You could n't 
get or stay in any of these places after ten- 
thirty to save your life. You see it is on 
account of Zeppelins, and it is a military 
law, so no one questions, no one tries to 
evade the law and no one complains, but 
all understand. 

So at ten-thirty the Paris world is not 
one of eating, drinking, and bright lights, 
but through partly lit streets people are 

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You Who Can Help 

wandering home or to some private house. 
Even there It Is a law that the heavy in- 
side curtains must be drawn over the win- 
dows when lights are lighted. 

No one worries about air raids, but of 
course people realize that precautions must 
be taken. Aeroplanes are flying about 
overhead day and night, patrolling and 
watchfully waiting, and at times they are 
as numerous as the taxis below. 

Yesterday morning we went to the 
Hotel des Invalides and saw General 
Cousin decorate about a hundred officers 
and men with the Legion of Honor and 
Croix de Guerre medals, and about fifty 
relatives of deceased heroes. It was the 
most thrilling but most pathetic ceremony 
I ever went to. One could n't see it with- 
out the tears streaming down and yet it 
was most inspiring. The escort troops 
formed on two sides of the Inside court, 
then the band struck boldly forth with the 
Marseillaise as General Cousin came in, 
followed by over a hundred officers and 
men, hardly one not wounded and ban- 
daged In some way; some with their whole 
faces bandaged, some with just their heads, 
many footless and legless, on crutches; 
one was brought in on a stretcher. 
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They formed in the center and then a 
long line of fifty or more widows, with 
their long veils, and men, and one little 
girl about six; they stood on the other side 
of the square. 

As each man's name was read with the 
reason why he was given the decoration, 
General Cousin walked up to him, tapped 
him on first one shoulder and then the 
other with his saber, pinned on the medal 
and kissed him on both cheeks. The ones 
who got the Croix de Guerre he simply 
tapped on the shoulder with the saber, 
pinned on the medal and shook hands. 
And to the families of those killed as heroes 
in action he simply handed the medal. It 
nearly killed you to see them, heroes that 
they were, crippled for life, yet it was in- 
spiring to realize that right in the midst 
of this world war you had a chance to see 
a ceremony of this kind. 

On our way back Moll and I went in to 
see the wonderful tapestries from Rheims 
Cathedral which were on exhibition at the 
Petit Palace, I never saw such wonderful 
things. I did n't realize such tapestries 
existed and I was so glad to know they 
were there, for nearly everything like ex- 
hibitions, galleries, etc., is closed now. I 

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You Who Can Help 

believe the Louvre is not open at all to the 
public, or if any, only a small, unimportant 
part. Of course many of the most famous 
paintings were sent to Southern France at 
the beginning of the war. I guess no one 
knows where most of them are. 



[ i8 ] 



3 RUE Verdi, Paris, August 22, 1916. 

Here I am in my Paris home, and I 
would give worlds if you could walk in 
and see how fascinating it is. I can hardly 
wait for Marlborough to get back and see 
it, now that we are actually settled here, 
for you know we came in two days after 
he left. 

He has only been gone three days, and 
I have had two letters from him, which 
seems like getting back to old times. But 
I am so happy for him that he is actually 
at Verdun. 

Friday afternoon I went to Mrs. 

S 's (her husband is an aviator and 

she the Mme. Sylva of Grand Opera 
fame), for tea. She said if I would come 
she would sing for me, so of course I 
went, for I have never known anyone 
like that before, and it is wonderfully in- 
teresting. She had Andolf, a noted pian- 
ist, there to play her accompaniments. He 
couldn't speak a word of English, but if 
he had been interested in dish towels, coat- 
hangers, and floor cloths, we could have 
talked together fluently. But I am not in 

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the French drawing-room class yet. How- 
ever he talked French violently, and I took 
a guess at what he ought to be saying, and 
talked in English, and we were both per- 
fectly happy. He is most attractive, and I 
never imagined one could have such a 
wonderful touch on the piano as he has. 
He is going to pick out a baby grand piano 
for me to rent. 

Saturday noon Marlborough left, all 
tied up in his uniform, with more London 
leather than a real Britisher, with a Sam 
Brown belt and London riding-boots, and 
a field bag, etc, Moll and I went down 
to the Embassy with him, but did not pur- 
sue him farther. 

In the afternoon we made our first trip 
to the Bon Marche where we got a few 
little things for the house, but I was not 
very thrilled with it. The shops on rue 
St. Honore and avenue de I'Opera take my 
fancy. I have n't bought a thing in the 
world for myself or Mollie but the two 
lingerie waists which I bought when I first 
came. Winter things are beginning to 
look tempting, but why get them for Paris? 
Absolutely no one dresses in the slightest, 
so far as fancy clothes go, and you would 
not feel comfortable in anything but very 
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dark clothes, and would be conspicuous in 
anything else. 

Sunday we went to the Jardin d'Ac- 
clamation in the Bois. The greenhouses 
were beautiful, but Mollie naturally had a 
fit over the animals, and had a nice ride 
on a camel. Elephant riding was too slow, 
and driving an ostrich, she said, hardly 
paid, for the ostrich went so fast It was all 
over before you knew it, but apparently in 
camel riding you got your money value in 
sensations. 

Monday morning we moved out here, 
and are happy to be in a place of our own. 

In the afternoon Mrs. B came 

and took me to the American Ambulance 
Hospital at Neuilly. I can never begin 
to tell you about it or the extent of 
the plant and organization. First, the 
building is superb. It was built for a 
school of some sort, and was just com- 
pleted when the war broke out, so it was 
taken at once by the American Ambulance. 
It extends the entire length of a city block 
in size and is built around a court, which is 
more than a court, for It Is a huge garden, 
but the building extends around all four 
sides. I went all over it from top to bot- 
tom, and through all the wards. There 

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are endless wards of just ten beds, and 
two or three of fifty. The Boston ward 
has fifty. Although they all look so com- 
fortable, the human misery and suffering 
is too terrible to write about. 

When we got to the operating room, the 
doctor who was operating knew Mrs. 

B well and asked us if we did n't want 

to come in, it was such a wonderful case. 
There were seven doctors there to witness 
it, and to study the wonderful things done 
in this war in the way of surgery. The 
poor man had had the side of his face and 
jaw blown off by a shell, and they were 
building up a new face for him. From a 
professional point of view it was marvel- 
ous beyond words, but after the first ten 
minutes I told Major Shaw (one of the 
American Army medical observers) that 
if I did not leave they would have two 
patients instead of one. I did not know 
whether I would like to have a little more 
ether and pass out, or whether I had had 
too much. When I came out you may be 
sure I sat down on the first thing that 
looked like a seat. But there was no sit- 
ting for anything but a long breath and a 
quick recovery, for there was a steady line 
of stretchers coming and going with poor 

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mutilated souls. I have begun to think 
that the blind are perhaps blessed and 
better off than the mutilated, for they are 
spared seeing themselves, which to the 
mutilated must be agony. 

The thousands and even hundreds of 
thousands of head and face wounds almost 
prevent the poor men from looking human. 
I suppose that they are glad to be alive, 
but with the life before them it is a pretty 
hard outlook. I am sure that half the men 
in Paris have but one leg, and what a tiny 
proportion of wounded Paris represents! 

The nearer you get to this war, the 
more useless and terrible it seems. I 
have n't started to lead my blind yet, and 
in fact I have n't decided just which way 
I will give my extra time later on. Every- 
body seems to be working in a different 
spot and all feel that their work is the 
most interesting and important. 

The one thing I have promised to do 
and have signed for is to go to the Ameri- 
can Ambulance every Wednesday from 
three to six, and work in the doctors' and 
nurses' canteen. This is what it is: there 
is a huge room in the basement, with gas- 
burners one length, and a thousand large 
teapots and hot-water boilers and great 

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hampers of rolls and cakes. Two ladies 
go each day and just plain " rustle " food 
for doctors and nurses. One might politely 
call it " pouring tea " but it is all the same 
as a Childs' restaurant. Of course there 
are hundreds of nurses and auxiliary nurses 
and doctors, and I am told the place is 
packed for three hours. It is just a 
moment's relaxation for them, after a 
hard day, and before they get the patients 
all fixed for the night. 



[ 24 ] 



Paris, August 25, 191 6. 

Wednesday afternoon I poured tea just 
as fast as I could from large tanks for 
three hours. There was an interest- 
ing Russian woman there with me, and 
the maids who are there to wash cups, 
etc., said we had served three hundred 
cups. 

There are lots of attractive Ambulance 
doctors and drivers, and many attractive 
nurses, and of course most of them are 
Americans and speak English, although of 
course, there have to be a certain number 
of French. I heard lots of interesting 
things, and found them so cordial and 
chatty. One man came in and said 
he wanted a cup of lye, not tea, for he 
had been operating on one case after 
another since daylight. Five trains of 
wounded had come into Paris in twenty- 
four hours; everything has been pretty 
hot up in the Somme district the past few 
weeks. 

Last night about eleven Marlborough 
came back from Verdun, where he had had 
a wonderfully interesting time, bringing 

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back a big hunk of a German shell which 
just missed him. He also brought back a 
case of bar-le-duc from Bar-le-Duc. It is 
such a relief to have him back! 



[ 26 ] 



3 RUE Verdi, August 28, 1916. 

I received the sweater you forwarded to 
Moll, and many thanks. We both think it 
looks remarkably well. I know you are 
anxious to know how I find things as to 
expense. I have not tried to get anything 
but some socks for Moll which were excel- 
lent but also expensive. Silk stockings look 
fairly good, but also nothing that can 
touch what one gets at home as to both 
quality and price. Around nine francs you 
can get a better stocking than you can at 
home for that price, but I don't pay that 
much at home ! 

There are lingerie waists for $5, and 
perfectly stunning ones for $10. Furs and 
clothes look fairly inexpensixe in the win- 
dows. Gowns are cheap and also good. 
I find it this way, the necessities of life are 
very dear, and the luxuries are not. 

I miss running around the country in 
your car, and my shoes are all wearing 
out! I can get along in trams and in the 
metro, but as for directing taxi-drivers 
beyond the usual places and numbers our 
French does not agree. 

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I am keen to have Mme. F come 

back from the country, for I am so anxious 
to become fluent, and everybody agrees 
she is the one to study with. I can under- 
stand my cook in practically everything she 
says now, which is a great help, for a week 
ago I could n't get much of anything. I 
am beginning to understand in a general 
way everything I hear around me. And 
Paris these days is really French; Ameri- 
cans are scarce. I have wished so many 
times that I had seen the Paris before the 
war, to compare it with. I wonder which 
French Red Cross Hospital your boxes 
went to. It would be interesting to know 
whom you heard from, but they number 
in the hundreds, for half of Paris is prac- 
tically hospitals; perhaps it was written 
from the headquarters of the Red Cross. 

Yesterday morning I went to a large 
ouvroir, which is practically a large 
workshop. It was an enormous house, 
wonderful as to furnishings, tapestries, etc., 
and the whole place is now a workshop. 
They employ a hundred or more paid 
Frenchwomen to do the work, and the 
clerical work; the giving out of clothes, 
etc., is done by volunteers. 

The work they wanted me to do there 

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really required speaking French, to say 
nothing of writing it, and there are plenty 
who can do that. This work should be 
gone at slowly and carefully, for every- 
body wants you to do something different 
and you might as well get something you 
can do well and have it worth while, than 
to drop mto some work that others could 
do better. 

Mollie has adopted a filleul, which is 
a godson: the captain of a company that 
has men whose family and friends live in 
the mvaded country, and who have no one 
to write to or hear from, and are worthy 
and of good character, sends their names 
in here to the different ouvroirs, where 
that work is handled, and, with the name 
a personal letter from the man asking for 
a marrainc, which is a godmother. 

The one Mollie chose is in the artillery 
and has not been able to hear one word 
trom his family since the war began two 
years ago; he wanted to hear from some- 
body somewhere, as he has practically 
lived in the trenches for two years. So at 
the ouvroir they wrote to him and to 
his captain saying that Mollie had adopted 
him, and she has to write to him, find out 
what he wants, and occasionally send to- 

[ 29 ] 



You Who Can Help 

bacco, etc. And he can write about his 
hfe at the front to her. It is a wonderful 
work and beautifully organized and man- 
aged, and to have a little personal word in 
their lives keeps them from thinking they 
are just fighting-machines. 

Saturday morning Marlborough and I 
were called at five-thirty and went to la 
Halle, which as you know is the big 
market. 

The cook went with us and did all the 
buying; we just enjoyed the place, and the 
people. Many of the men looked like 
pirates from *' Treasure Island," and an- 
other time I shall go with a camera. The 
cook brought home everything but the 
family cat, and, among her purchases, a 
gorgeous bunch of American Beauties, 
stems about a meter long, for one franc! 

Sunday afternoon Marlborough and I 
went over to the Luxembourg Garden 
where I had not been before; is n't it beau- 
tiful ! We dined at Tavern Pascale, which 
was wonderfully interesting, and such 
food ! It was a sight to see as we entered, 
— the place fairly well filled, and around 
the wall a line of trench helmets, bayonets, 
and belts hanging, as their owners dined, 
and every kind and combination of uniform 

[ 30 ] 



I 



You Who Can Help 

about, you could think of. As we sat there 
and dined I felt as if I were on the stage; 
nothing seemed real, and everything had 
a mediaeval look. 

Marlborough is leaving again next 
week, for the island of Corsica to inspect 
the German prison camps, to be gone 
about a month. Two young men from the 

Embassy and Major C are going. 

He is going with one man down in the 
lowlands where there has been much 
malaria, and they have asked for a doctor 
inspector. Marlborough and the other 
man are going to the camps in the moun- 
tains. They go to Marseilles and Nice, 
then to Corsica. 



[ 31 ] 



Paris, September 3, 19 16. 

Yesterday, we put in a sight-seeing day 
at Versailles, going out at noon on the 
train, as you know it is only a matter of 
about half an hour on the train. When 
we landed we walked up to a perfect little 
cafe where we had lunch on the balcony. 
I saw more military activity than I have 
ever seen before. 

In peace time there are large garrisons 
here, but to Moll and me it looked as if in 
war time the entire French Army was here. 
The streets were filled with marching, 
drilling troops, and we stood and watched 
a line of covered motor trucks on their 
way to " somewhere in France." I only 
wish I had counted them; we watched them 
until we decided there was no end to them, 
and so far as I know they are still going 
down that street. 

The whole place was swarming with 
soldiers. Aeroplanes and big guns were 
being dragged through the streets, and the 
heavens were swarming with aeroplanes 
of various kinds, and two big dirigibles 
were overhead. 

[ 32 ] 



You Who Can Help 

Moll and I were so busy with the mili- 
tary, that we almost forgot there were 
other things to be seen. After lunch we 
went to the Palace, and with a guide did 
it according to Hoyle. 

Of course you have all been there, and it 
is wonderful, is n't it? I was so interested 
in the Vernet and Delacroix war pictures, 
and I would n't have minded a good fox- 
trot in the crystal ball-room. After 
" doing " the Palace we dismissed our 
guide, and spent the entire afternoon wan- 
dering in the gardens. 

/ think we are rather accomplished to 
take a French guide, and understand, 
but, as Moll says, " when we have n't 
heard anything else for a month, of 
course you have to understand, — you 
can't help it." I am glad she feels that 
way about it ! 

To return to the gardens at Versailles, 
— did you ever see anything more beau- 
tiful in your life? Such vistas, and such 
extent without monotony, and such glori- 
ous flowers ! It is something you all know, 
so why should I feebly describe it, — but 
is n't it glorious? 

But something else which I have n't 
words to describe is the way I felt as we 

[ 33 ] 



You Who Can Help 

took the train back to Paris. I could 
barely put one foot before the other, and 
felt as if I had taken a forty-mile horse- 
back ride, and had slept out in the rain 
afterwards. I felt stiff, and two hundred, 
and Moll and I at one time thought we 
would have to take off our shoes and 
throw them in the fountain, we were so 

tired of them. I had on a pair E 

gave me because they didn't fit her; tell 
her for me that they don't fit me, either. 
The next time I go sight-seeing I am going 
in my blue satin boudoir slippers ! 

Monday night Marlborough and I went 
up into Montmartre, and dined at the 
" Core " (which is " the nail "). It is a 
perfect place, small but attractive, with 
old prints and china on the walls, and down- 
stairs there were not more than eight 
tables and the bar. 

Marlborough was the only man there 
not in uniform, and there was every kind 
of uniform you could imagine. As the 
men got up to go, after they had dined, 
and put on various overcoats and hung 
on their equipment, some with their tin 
boxes with the gas masks, it did n't seem 
as if it could be real, — these men in the 
midst of war just having a little look in, 

[ 34 ] 



You Who Can Help 

in Paris, before they went back to the 
trenches. Such a sight makes the whole 
seem to me like the stage; it doesn't 
seem as if I could be living here in the 
midst of it all. 



[ ,^5 ] 



Paris, September 7, 1916. 

Yesterday I had a very busy day at the 
Ambulance. There were about four hun- 
dred to feed, and I saw some pretty sad 
cases. A boy there in whom I have been 
so interested, with both arms gone at the 
shoulder, one leg gone, and the other gone 
from the knee, is evacuated to-day, and 
he is so unhappy to leave. He is a poor 
peasant boy from Southern France, and 
who can care for him every minute of his 
life? And yet someone will have to. The 
only thing he can do is to read, and some- 
one has to turn the pages for him to do 
that. But at the Ambulance everybody 
has been thoughtful of him, and he hates 
to leave. 

Mrs. B is doing some work with 

the blind, and is trying to persuade me to 
go there and help them in their carpet 
weaving, but I have a couple of weeks 
more to decide, before Moll goes to 
school. I think I would rather have a look 
at various places of this relief work, and 
not take something which requires the 
same thing every day. 



You Who Can Help 

One day (that is, seven hours) at one of 
the big railway stations, giving food to the 
poor men when they come in direct from 
the trenches, tempts me, and you only have 
to sign for one day a week. I am told it is 
tremendously interesting, and there are 
still other days for other things. All these 
things are wonderfully organized, and 
they do not like to have you shift from one 
thing to another, so you want to start 
where you want to stick. 

I had a cable from Marlborough to- 
night saying he had arrived at Bastia, 
Corsica; when he returns I hope to know 
more about Corsica than I do at present. 

Moll and I are both well and getting 
along all right, but it seems queer to be 
alone in this place. 



[ 37 ] 



Paris, September 12, 19 16. 

I trust that my letters do not seem as 
strange to you as they do to me but I fear 
I repeat and I know I wander from one 
thing to another. Mollie and I have been 
busy as possible every minute since Marl- 
borough went away, and we have had two 
letters from him so know that he is all 
right, and having a most interesting trip. 

Last Friday afternoon I took Mollie to 
see the Somme motion pictures at the 
Rejane Theatre. They were frightful but 
wonderful, and to see the pictures, with 
the battle of the Somme still going on, and 
to sit right among all French people, one- 
half of them soldiers, — it is something 
she will never forget. They had an orches- 
tra of a dozen pieces, the first music I have 
heard here, and when they played the 
Marseillaise and the audience as one rose 
to its feet, and all the soldiers stood at 
attention, with hand saluting, it was most 
impressive. 

Sunday it poured in torrents all day, and 

yet Mrs. B ventured out, and came 

up for luncheon and I had a very nice time 

[ 38 ] 



You Who Can Help 

with her. And through her I had a chance 
to go to see a Miss Vail, who is at the 
"American Fund for French Wounded." 

I went down there yesterday morning. 
The headquarters is the building next to 
the " Ambassadors' Cafe," on the Champs 
Elysees. This was apparently a similar 
cafe. Now it looks like a warehouse on 
the main floor, but it is curious with the 
many gilded chandeliers above, and a gold 
staircase leading to what was once the 
place to dine, a circular balcony overlook- 
ing the main room below. The balcony is 
filled with small tables, but at each only a 
girl busily banging the typewriter. Here 
the clerical work is done, and the rooms 
leading off the balcony are the main offices. 

Apparently all the work done by the 
A. F. F. W. branches in America is marked 
that way, so from the clearing-house here 
in Paris the hundreds of cases are sent to 
this place. Here they are opened, and of 
course each case is a mixture of things — 
shirts, socks, pillows, etc. — so they are 
assorted and put in store-rooms. Long 
lists of the needs of the various hospitals 
are on file. My work is to be in this 
department, doing up these packages in 
waterproof paper, and sewing burlap 

[ 39 ] 



You Who Can Help 

around them. Incidentally, these pack- 
ages are the size of the kitchen stove 1 

They asked me if I would get official 
papers from the Embassy to use with my 
passport, so that sometimes they could 
send me out on the motor trucks with the 
things for the hospitals, for many of the 
base hospitals are well out from Paris, and 
many in the war zone, though they are far 
from the danger zone or the zone of 
activity. This would be most interesting 
and I hope that the chance comes to me 
some day. In the meantime I shall try to 
make good at the unpoetic job of getting 
the bundles ready for the long line of war 
motors waiting for them outside. 

Until Moll is in school, I am going down 
four afternoons a week, — Monday, Tues- 
day, Thursday, Friday, — so that with 
Wednesday at the Ambulance, I have but 
Saturday for foolishness. But it is too 
ridiculous to have tea at the Ritz with a 
bunch of females four or five days a week, 
and here, there, and the other place the 
other days, yet you can't help it unless you 
have a good excuse, like a steady job. I 
appreciate people being so nice to me, but 
while I am in Paris I want something dif- 
ferent. I may never come here again. 

[ 40 ] 



You Who Can Help 

Yesterday was the first afternoon I have 
had free since Marlborough left, so I took 

Mrs. B and Mollie out to see the 

American Ambulance. She was anxious 
to see it, and we went over but a small part 
of it. I thought Mollie ought to have a 
glimpse of it, to realize what an enormous 
thing a big military hospital was. We 
only went through the fracture wards and 
the general part of the hospital, so she did 
not see any of the things to haunt her. 

We came back here for tea, and Mrs. 

M and Captain and Mrs. B 

dropped in, so if I am not out busy doing 
things, there are always people here, so 
there is not a moment to get lonely. But 
it does seem queer to be living in my own 
home, in a foreign country with just Moll. 
Yet she is such a companionable little soul 
and so adaptable, that one could never get 
lonely with her about. 



[ 41 ] 



Paris, September 14, 191 6. 

I reported at the American Fund for 
French Wounded to-day at two o'clock, 
with my required French blue garb. I 
worked like a sweat-shop worker until six- 
thirty, with about ten minutes off for tea 
at five o'clock. 

When I arrived there were three motor 
trucks waiting to be loaded for Verdun. 
A hurry-up call had come in for certain 
things. I looked through a hundred so- 
called comfort bags to add certain things 
if not found and put them into two pack- 
ing-cases. From the store-room I counted 
out and tied up, in lots of one hundred, 
five hundred pillows. I was then sent to a 
room to sew up in burlap ten enormous 
bales of bandages. We got them done, 
and off the motors started. How I would 
have loved a picture of it! 

The last two hours were spent in un- 
packing and putting in place in store- 
rooms cases of things from Boston. The 
two girls who worked with me to-day are 
both motor drivers, but happened to have 
a day in. They were most entertaining 

[ 42 ] 




At the headquartkrs of "The American Fund for 
P'rench Wounded" at the Alca/ar 

The author is at the extreme right of the picture. 



s 



You Who Can Help 

and *' powerful cute-looking." They re- 
port for duty at lo a. m. and are on until 
6 p. M., when they take their cars back to 
the garage. At the garage they care for 
their cars entirely themselves, excepting 
the washing; consequently, in the early 
morning or late evening hours, they are 
working in the garage. One girl said she 
worked on her car until two o'clock in the 
morning the other day, after coming in 
from a ten-day trip. 



[ 43 ] 



Paris, September 17, 191 6. 

French bread, which is one thing I al- 
ways wanted to come to Paris for, is no 
more, for flour is darker and poorer in 
quality and not so plentiful, so I am told 
that the bread to-day should not be men- 
tioned in the same breath with the real 
French bread. Sugar is scarce and butter 
poor and very expensive. 

From all we hear of infantile paralysis, 
it must be fearful in America. I don't 
believe I told you that our boat was the 
last one over before they made all children 
from New York go into a two weeks' 
quarantine on landing. Imagine Mollie 
and me in Bordeaux for two weeks, 
with nothing but wine and prunes for 
excitement. 

I am enthusiastic over the work I have 
gone into. Friday Miss Vail asked me if 
I would assist her in the office that after- 
noon, so from two until seven I worked 
with her, straightening out things which 
were piling up and getting beyond anyone, 
— rather a hasty promotion, but I shall 
doubtless be back in the manual-labor part 

[ 44 ] 



You Who Can Help 

to-morrow. Yesterday was my day off, 
but they gave me a commission to buy a 
couple of dozen school children's capes 
for some refugee children in an outlying 
district. As there was not much money 
for such things, I spent most of my morn- 
ing locating cheap but warm ones. 

The big drive during the past twenty- 
four hours has been a real gain of terri- 
tory, but I hate to think of the tralnloads 
of wounded which are sure to be piling in 
here to-day. Of course the French loss 
does not compare with the German, but 
there are always the hundreds of wounded. 

When people at home make little pil- 
lows of any and every size out of pieces 
of cretonne, filled with bits of anything, 
they may be sure they are all used. To- 
day came a hurry call for seventeen hun- 
dred of these pillows to be sent at once to 
the Gare St. Chappelle, for the American 
Ambulance. This is the railroad station 
where all the trains with wounded come in, 
a little way out from the city, so as to keep 
all the unnecessary horror away from 
people at large. 

The wounded all come in tagged; there 
are four kinds of tags, designating the dif- 
ferent degrees of seriousness of the 

[ 45 ] 



You Who Can Help 

wounds. At the station they are assorted. 
The little pillows are used on the stretch- 
ers, to give them some degree of comfort, 
under wounded head, leg, or arm, as the 
case may be. The pillows are of various 
sizes and are wonderfully useful, as they 
are of no real value as to material; when 
they have done their duty once, most of 
them naturally have to be destroyed. 

I had a cable from Marlborough this 
morning, saying that he was about to go 
up the west coast of Corsica and would 
not be back until the twenty-ninth or 
thirtieth. 



[ 46 ] 



Paris, September 22, 19 16. 

The past two days I have put in some 
hard work at the A. F. F. W., last night 
staying until seven. 

To-day, while we were working, two 
French soldiers came in. They were 
brothers and the younger had been sent 
to get some warm underclothing, for he 
was going right out to the front this after- 
noon. His elder brother, who lost an arm 
a few months ago, was weeping, knowing, 
as he did, what his brother was going to. 
He himself could not go back because he 
had only one arm, nor could he go home to 
his mother, who lived alone, for his home 
was in the invaded country and he did n't 
know whether she was alive or not. The 
case was a pathetic one, and although you 
see and hear of many such every day, this 
is the first time I have seen anyone, man 
or woman, who has given in to his anguish. 

Wednesday afternoon Mollie and I 
went to Miss Holt's " lighthouse," or 
phare, as they call it here. It is really 
wonderful the work the blind are doing, 

[ 47 ] 



You Who Can Help 

and you can hardly believe the way they 
get around the house. 

The method is not to lead them in any 
way, to make them lose their independence, 
and although they may be stone blind you 
see them going about alone, up and down 
stairs, without even faltering. The hard- 
wood floors have tracks of matting from 
door to door, and if they find themselves 
off the matting they know they are going 
wrong. About two feet in from the wall, 
around every room, on the floor, is a 
slightly raised board, not enough to 
stumble over, but enough to make them 
realize the wall is near. Many of them 
were learning to write on a typewriter, 
others were modeling in clay, and many 
learning to read by raised letters. Others 
were weaving sweaters, rugs, etc. They 
roller-skate, fence, and ride bicycles around 
a court for exercise, and why they don't 
run into each other no mortal knows. 

The home is a glorious one for them, 
but to hear the little tap, tap, of the little 
bamboo canes which they carry with them 
Is too pathetic. Young men, strong and 
husky, — to be instantly blinded in battle 
is too terrible. Most of them look abso- 
lutely normal as to eyes. There are not 

[ 48 ] 



You Who Can Help 

many blind coming in now; most of them 
lost their sight early in the war, before 
they had proper protection, the trench 
helmet, masks, etc. 

The blind are pathetic, but the mutilated 
get all my sympathy. I told you of the lad 
at the Ambulance who had lost both arms 
and both legs. When a friend of his came 
in to see him, as he was convalescent, his 
first words were, " Was n't I lucky." I 
call that some courage and pleasure in 
being alive. 



[ 49 ] 



September 25, 191 6. 

It is so hard for me to remember which 
one of the family I wrote to last, but it 
makes little difference, and I shall begin 
like Moll, " Dear Folks." 

You wanted to know if I was busy 
" freshening " up my French. Any I had 
was not worth freshening up, — what I 
am waiting for is to get something entirely 
new. Mme. Fritche, with whom I am 
going to study, has just come back, so in 
another week I shall begin. I am sorry 
to say that I am not looking forward to it 
with the slightest bit of pleasure, but it has 
to be done. 

I took Molly over to the Cour Fenelon 
to-day, when I went to see Mile. Larible 
about her school; it was unique. She is 
a dear little old French lady, speaking a 
little English, and Moll is to begin on 
Monday. There are about four hundred 
girls there, but many only go twice a week 
on Cour Days. She is going every day at 
nine and stay until four-thirty. I don't 
envy her a bit, but Mile. Larible said if 
she had her luncheon there and went out 

[ 50 ] 



You Who Can Help 

to walk with the fifteen or twenty girls 
who stay to lunch she would learn much 
more rapidly, and she was sure that in 
three months she would learn to talk, read, 
and recite all her lessons in French with- 
out any difficulty. It is a grand chance for 
her, but it sounds rather tough to me; still 
I know that that is the way to get it. 

A cable from Marlborough says he 
leaves Bastia for Nice to-morrow so that 
will bring him in Paris on the twenty-ninth, 
and, after a month away, I shall be glad 
to get him home again. He has n't been 
here more than three weeks since I landed, 
but I am delighted for him each time he 
has been away, for they have been such 
interesting trips. I only hope that he will 
stay at home for a while, but I suppose 
that he will be anxious to get out to the 
Somme, though I am not very keen to have 
him out there right now. 

Will you tell E that the men in the 

trenches adore all the candy we send out 
to them. Candy and tobacco seem to be 
two much appreciated articles. 

And while I think of it, please tell her 
to have all the socks tied together with a 
piece of yarn at the toe or top, as a pair, 
before they are sent out. The hundreds 

[ 51 ] 



You Who Can Help 

which arrive otherwise are enough to drive 
one mad. J 

I have heard of many small hospitals ^ 

here which are just suffering for things. 
What are they working for in Andover 
at present, — just the Red Cross fund in 
general? 



[ 52 ] 



Paris, October 2, 19 16. 

Marlborough had a most interesting 
time in Corsica, but he was glad to get 
home. 

Last Wednesday I had a very busy day 
at the Ambulance. We were all sorry to 
hear of the death of two Americans that 
day, Rockwell, the aviator who has done 
so well, and Kelly, who had just come over 
to drive an ambulance. He was killed by 
a German shell, and it was only his sixth 
day at the front. It seems more pathetic 
when you know he was just starting his 
work. 

Moll has had her first day at school, 
and fortunately the queer part strikes her 
humorous side. She will be quite happy 
there I know, and I am confident that she 
will get real French, and that is the one 
thing I care most about for her this winter, 
after keeping well. 

To-day at the A. F. F. W. someone 
brought in a blind man for one or two 
things that he needed. He was a pathetic 
sight, with a scalp and forehead wound, 
one eye simply closed and the other so 

[ S3 ] 



You Who Can Help 

mutilated it had to be covered, stone blind 
in both, and one arm gone. But he was 
cheerful beyond words, and wanted to 
come to see the work, the American women 
were doing. As he was taken through the 
different rooms he was told all about it, 
and as I gave him the things he was to 
have, he was as pleased as a child. Each 
article of clothing he felt all over with his 
one hand, and they were all just what he 
wanted. He is very anxious to have his 
wounds heal sufficiently for him to go into 
the blind industrial school, for he thinks 
he can learn to make brushes with the one 
remaining hand. To me it would seem 
discouraging, no eyes and only one hand, 
but they are all so wonderfully courageous. 



[ 54 ] 



October 5, 1916. 

Yesterday I had a busy day, as they all 
are, and a most interesting one. The 
morning as usual at my job, and at noon 
Marlborough and I went to luncheon with 
Mme. L , who lives alone, as her hus- 
band is off on special missions for the 
French government. Her home is just 
like a museum and story-book combined. 
She has given over all the lower part of 
her house as a home for convalescent sol- 
diers. She has about twelve at a time, and 
takes only men from the invaded terri- 
tories who have no place to go to after they 
leave the hospitals, and before they are 
able to go back to the front. When we 
rang the front-door bell, a soldier opened 
the door, and in the big square hall was 
a huge round table set for about a dozen 
or fifteen. And in the adjoining rooms 
were soldiers, phonographs, and " Tip- 
perary." We went upstairs, where Mme. 

L has her part of her own house, and 

as we lunched in her fascinating dining- 
room the sounds of the life below sounded 
just like a cafe scene before the curtain 

[ 55 ] 



You Who Can Help 

goes up on the stage. Naturally her stories 
of her " family," as she calls them, were 
interesting. She was the first person to 
apply to the French government for con- 
valescents after the war broke out. Since 
then she has had over five hundred, so you 
can well imagine the good she has done 
and is doing. 

Right after luncheon, I had to go to the 
Ambulance, where I had a very busy time 
until about six. After I finished my duties 
I went up into one of the wards to see an 
English soldier who is having practically a 
whole new face made. His nose, upper 
jaw, and upper face were shot away. At 
an English hospital where he was sent, 
they said it was hopeless to do anything 
for him in the way of his appearance, but 
that the American doctors were very dar- 
ing, so they sent him to the American 
Ambulance. He now has a nose and upper 
face, and said that next week he was going 
to have another operation, and have an 
upper jaw and lips made. He spoke about 
it as you would of having a new suit made. 



[ 56 ] 



Paris, October lo, 191 6. 

Yesterday I spent much of the time help- 
ing load ambulances outside and packing, 
baling, etc., for the moving-picture man. 
Some woman is to lecture in America, and 
these pictures are to be shown to illustrate 
the work done. Compared to what is 
being done on the Somme, it does n't seem 
much ! 

This afternoon I had my third French 
lesson. My three lessons have been pain- 
ful, and the studying between times is 
almost more than my brain enjoys, but I 
must get it as rapidly as I can, for with 
Germany's new U-boat performances our 
days in France may be numbered. To-day 
we were all stirred up by the news of the 
ships torpedoed in the Atlantic, and we are 
all thankful to be on dry land. 

E mentioned in her letter the possi- 
bility of her Red Cross working for some 
especially needy hospital here. Of course 
the things they can send are needed almost 
everywhere, but if they would like to have 
their work more personal by sending it to 
me, and through me hearing about the 

[ 57 ] 



You Who Can Help 

hospital and the use their things are put 
to, and about the various cases, I shall be 
only too glad. I know of so many, but 
would pick out the most interesting as well 
as the most needy. Of course the most 
needy are not the ones right in Paris. I 
will find out how things can be sent with- 
out expense, yet through the clearing-house, 
to me, for everything is done to make it 
easy for relief work. 



[58 ] 



Paris, October 15, 1916. 

This has been rather an irregular week, 
as to mail, on account of the " submarin- 
ing " at your end. The mail which came 
in on Monday has not been given up by 
the censor yet, so I have not heard from 
home for some time. 

Now that we have gone back to the old 
time, it gets dark at five o'clock, and to 
wander around these dark streets is a good 
deal of a trick. 

In my next letter I am going to have a 
lot of definite proposals for your Red 
Cross work; of course you must consider 
them as just proposals, and if nothing ap- 
peals, just say so. If I ask you just what 
can you send, I suppose your answer is: 
what do you want? The general needs 
are: sheets, pillows, pillow-cases, towels, 
rubber sheeting, blankets, pajamas, shirts, 
comfort pillows, handkerchiefs, sweaters, 
surprise bags, — what we think of as com- 
fort bags. These they adore, and keep 
them hanging at the head of their beds. 
They are, of course, usually made out of 
cretonne and contain writing-pad, envel- 

[ 59 ] 



You Who Can Help 

opes, pencil, handkerchief, pipe, small 
mirror, puzzles, chocolate, etc. You see it 
gives the poor convalescent ones a few 
possessions of their own. And when you 
see them by the hundreds in the hospitals 
you wish you could give each one some- 
thing. Letters in them they adore. 

As far as supplies are concerned, hot- 
water bags, rubber gloves, rubber cushions, 
etc., are among the most called-for articles. 



[ 60 ] 



Paris, October 19, 19 16. 

Yesterday I had an Interesting day at 
the Ambulance. The past two days the 
fighting on the Somme has been frightfully 
s-evere, and the patients are all beginning 
to arrive. The wounded from gas bombs 
are particularly bad, for the poison goes so 
quickly over the whole system. 

On Monday I was sent out on my first 
" delivery " to a hospital in St. Germain. 
A Miss Dunham from New York was my 
driver and we went in an Overland motor 
truck, which had a huge red cross painted 
on each side of the covered truck, and 
words stating that it was for the " Blesses 
Fran^ais" and given by the Comite Boston, 
and a red cross on top of hood. 

It was a glorious afternoon, and for 
some unknown reason, it did n't rain, so 
the thirty-mile run we had was a joy. It 
did seem odd to be dashing up the Champs 
Elysees on a motor truck filled with sup- 
plies for a hospital, where many men had 
arrived unexpectedly from the frightful 
fight of the day before. I never expected 
to drive in that fashion in Paris. 

Half way out, a clamp which held one 

[ 61 ] 



You Who Can Help 

side of the windshield came off, and the 
whole shield and long extension rods to 
the front of the truck, had to be removed. 
So Miss Dunham and I took out all the 
tools and looked them over, and after 
struggling with about a million bolts, we 
succeeded in removing the whole thing and 
went on our way. 

We found the hospital Auxilliare No. 
20 delightfully situated in an old convent, 
and we were shown over the place from 
cellar to roof. It was most attractive, and 
everything was being done which could be 
done for the poor suffering souls. It is a 
small hospital, with not more than eighty 
beds. 

We carried some cigarettes out, but not 
expecting to be taken over the entire place 
we did n't take many. I was so sorry for 
I should have liked to be able to give them 
all some. 

Norman Prince's death was a blow to 
the young aviators. His memorial service 
is to be to-morrow morning at the Ameri- 
can Episcopal Church here. The Ameri- 
can aviators number only about fifteen and 
they are very intimate, as they all work 
together and live in one mess. Norman 
Prince makes the third to go. 
[ 62 ] 



Paris, October 24, 191 6. 

Thursday I went with Marlborough to 
the memorial service for Norman Prince 
in the American Episcopal Church. The 
main part of the church was very well filled 
with American, French, and English offi- 
cers. The beautiful flowers were banked 
against the chancel rail, with an American 
flag on one side and a French flag on the 
other. Just before the service began, all 
the American aviators in their French uni- 
forms came in and took the front seats 
and then all the American Ambulance men, 
in the Paris section, came in and sat behind 
them. It was all very impressive and very 
sad. 

Yesterday afternoon I was sent out 
again by my workshop on " deliveries." 
We went on the Magnolia truck to a hos- 
pital down at the lower end of Paris, miles 
beyond the Bastile. After our business 
was done, they asked us, as usual, if we 
would like to see the hospital. As this is 
part of our work, of course we said we did. 
The building was more like a warehouse 
than anything else; it all looked cold, gray, 

[ 63 ] 



You Who Can Help 

and cheerless, and, I should say, always 
without sun. As it was an improvised hos- 
pital, it looked pretty primitive. Most of 
the men looked pretty sick. 

Now about your work in Andover. I 
had a nice talk with Mrs. Lathrop, the 
head of the work here, and she said the 
best results had not come from working 
for one particular hospital, for whatever 
its needs might be now they would be 
quite different in a week from now and 
very different, still, by the time a special 
box could arrive. Should you wish to send 
here through the A. F. F. W. and indirectly 
through me, send anything, surgical dress- 
ings and all; the box will be marked and 
invoiced from Andov^er and from you. As 
it is received here, if there is any desire to 
hear from it in a personal way, they are 
only too glad to make it possible, as they 
do with nearly all. You will be told where 
the articles were sent, and, as they are sent, 
the hospital is told the articles are from 
you, and bunches of letters for you from 
the individual men will arrive here and be 
forwarded to you. I shall be notified 
where the articles were sent and can go 
there and send you pictures, and tell you 
all about it, — that is, if it is in France and 

[ 64 ] 



You Who Can Help 

not in Salonica I As soon as you are once 
started, a flood of personal literature pours 
in, and that is what makes the work more 
interesting. 

And if it is work entirely by workers for 
the Red Cross will you let me know? 

And now that you know about it, you 
can decide if you would like to hear from 
your efforts. 

This victory at Verdun is a joy to Paris 
and I hope it was made without too great 
a sacrifice but, dear me, with tons of big 
shells being used, as well as all the hand- 
grenades and bayonets, there has to be a 
frightful toll of dead and wounded. The 
invasion of Roumania is disheartening but 
we hope for a turn in the tide there. 
I hope Moll's fillcHl, Paulain Leon, will 
write to her something of the Verdun vic- 
tory; he is in the artillery there and we 
hear that the artillery fired continuously 
for one hundred and five hours. Natu- 
rally the men were changed but the guns 
never ceased. 



[ 65 ] 



Paris, October 27, 1916. 

How I wish before beginning your win- 
ter relief work, you could be in Paris a few 
days with me ! To be among these won- 
derful French people, with their nation at 
war, is an inspiration itself. 

I can't tell you emphatically enough, 
that the French are doing all they can to 
relieve and help their own people. You 
have only to stop and think that this war 
has been going on for over two years to 
realize what there is to be done. 

Unless one has actually been through 
big military hospitals in war time, one 
can't realize the horror of war. To see 
hundreds — and to know there are thou- 
sands more like them — of young men 
and men in the prime of life shattered 
and suffering from shrapnel and bomb 
wounds too horrible to describe I Poor 
souls, they are mutilated for life, but are 
all glad to have done what they could for 
France, and for the principle in which they 
believe. 

After visiting a hospital you realize 
what a blessed thing it is to have health, 

[ ee ] 



You Who Can Help 

and hands and feet, and you realize, as 
never before, that the well and strong 
must work while this war lasts, to provide 
for the needs of the suffering. 

I only wish I had, right here in my 
house, those nice warm hospital shirts, 
socks, and the rest of the things which I 
saw at the Guild last winter. I know you 
have done a lot, and I know that every- 
thing you have done has been appreciated 
by someone somewhere. I would only too 
gladly have things sent directly to me, and 
would beg for them, but the best way, as I 
have said, is the most economical way. 
To have things shipped without any ex- 
pense to any individual or organization, 
— that is the only way to do. 

Clothing, surgical dressings, and hospi- 
tal supplies are all handled here at the 
A. F. F. W., — in fact everything for the 
wounded that one could think of. These 
supplies are sent by individuals or com- 
mittees in America, marked for the 
A. F. F, W., and are shipped without ex- 
pense. They go through the clearing- 
house here, simply as a matter of routine, 
but they are not touched. 

When they arrive at the A. F. F. W., a 
record Is kept of the articles received; 

[ 67 ] 



You Who Can Help 

they are assorted here, and, as demands 
come in from hospitals near and far, the 
needs are met as far as possible and as 
quickly as possible. 

Each day camions bring in boxes from 
America to the receiving department, so 
each morning you see a line of camions 
waiting for the bales and cases, which are 
the result of a day's work in the packing 
department. For hospitals in and near 
Paris there is a motor service, made pos- 
sible by the generosity of various com- 
mittees in America. The Boston, Mag- 
nolia, St, Paul, and San Francisco com- 
mittees all have delivery trucks bearing 
their names, all with volunteer drivers and 
all the drivers are American girls. 

It has been my good fortune, as I 've 
told you, to go out on many deliveries, so 
in that way I have seen where some of the 
things are sent, heard the appreciation of 
the hospital directors, and, after going 
through the wards, I have realized how 
modest they were in their demands, and 
how much more they could have used. 
But economy is practiced to its bitter end; 
even surgical dressings are washed, steril- 
ized, and used again. 

You are doing all you can, I know, but 

[ 68 ] 



You Who Can Help 

here I am in Paris, not many miles away 
from the terrible Somme and Verdun, see- 
ing the wounded pouring into Paris, and 
for once in my life I am not too proud to 
beg. Do let me know if there is anything 
you can do for these wonderful French 
people. 

We now include Salonica and Morocco, 
and to-day we started preparing fifty thou- 
sand surprise bags for Christmas in the 
hospitals. 

Sunday we had Mme. L here for 

luncheon, — the one who has the home for 
convalescent soldiers. We had n't seen 
her for several weeks and during that time 
she had had a frightful experience: she 
had heard that her husband had been taken 
from a boat on his way to Holland and 
had been shot as a spy. For three weeks 
this was all the information she could get 
of him. Finally — and suddenly — he 
turned up here in Paris. 



[ 69 ] 



Paris, November 8, 1916. 

Sunday morning a Miss Brent got per- 
mission for me to go with her to the Gare 
du Nord to see a troop train off to the 
front. And it was a sight, — eighteen 
hundred men going back after eight days' 
permission in Paris, going back, poor 
souls, many of them, never to return, and 
you may be sure there was not much hilar- 
ity at leaving Paris for shot and shell and 
the destruction of human life. 

But the calm, natural, business-like way 
in which they accepted it was a revelation, 
as showing what people can do if they have 
to. At the train no one is allowed inside 
the gate, so once a man has passed 
through, he has said good-bye to family 
and friends, if he have them. 

Going through that sad crowd is heart- 
rending. But once inside the gate, where 
Miss Brent and I were allowed to go, I 
got as excited as a child of two. Miss 
Brent had on a truck about fifty packages 
of socks, handkerchiefs, soap, cigarettes, 
pate, and jam, to give to men who, she had 
found out, had come from the invaded 
country. Their eight days could not be 

[ 70 ] 



You Who Can Help 

spent with their families so of course many 
cases of this kind are very pathetic. 

I turned all the money I had on Satur- 
day night into French cigarettes and 
wished I had about a thousand packages 
instead of about two hundred. My inten- 
tions were to give them only to the pa- 
thetic, forlorn-looking ones. This I did at 
first, and presently I was surrounded by a 
mob; their bourgeois French was beyond 
me and my two hundred packages of 
cigarettes lasted about as long as a snow- 
ball on a griddle. 

Aside from those to whom you gave 
cigarettes, all that could wanted to grasp 
you by the hand, and have you say, " Bon 
chance'' (good luck), — never, '' Au 
revoiry 

This mass of faded and stained blue 
uniforms, trench helmets, and gas masks 
was something weird to be among and a 
part of. Just before the train started and 
all were about in the coaches, we began at 
the end of the train with a bunch of French 
flags and ran the length of the train, 
putting one in each coach. 

Such excitement! A train filled with 
Andover boys on their way to an Exeter 
game was nothing compared with it. The 

[ 71 ] 



You Who Can Help 

train seemed miles long and extended out 
of the train yard almost into the country. 
As the train started, they hung their flags 
out of the windows, as well as their eight- 
een hundred helmeted heads, all saying, 
" Vive les Americaines,^^ and it was a won- 
derful sight. And as the train went round 
a curve they all flocked to the opposite 
windows in the coaches, and we could see 
this long line of French flags waving until 
the train was out of sight. 

After the excitement of doing something 
for them was over, it was rather depress- 
ing, but I only had to turn around to greet 
a train coming in direct from the trenches, 
— as many men with mud caked on up 
over their boots and leggings, their over- 
coats all mud, and all with their huge 
knotty trench canes, but all of them 
wreathed in smiles at the thought of Paris 
for eight days. 

Out of the huge crowd waiting for them, 
every now and then a man, woman, or 
child would fall on a soldier's neck. But 
the other I had had a part in, and of this 
I was simply an onlooker. My idea now 
is to save my sous for a million cigarettes 
and again get permission to go and have 
enough for all. 

[ 72 ] 



Paris, November 14, 1916. 

You ask if we want any warm things. 
As yet it is not cold, and our apartment is 
wonderfully heated, which is saying a lot 
in Paris at any time and particularly so in 
war time. 

This afternoon I called at the Embassy 
on the Sharps, and they were in one room 
with all the doors closed. They had n't 
had any coal and were keeping one room 
warm by a wood fire. Coal is ordered but 
they have n't been able to get it delivered. 
An order came out yesterday that all stores 
in Paris must close at six o'clock, and one 
day a week all theaters, cinemas, etc., in 
order to save coal and electricity, so that 
all public defense needs can be met. That 
is so that they can have more for munition 
factories, etc. They are even talking of 
closing restaurants in the same way, and 
of taxing every restaurant check over five 
francs. 

Dressing in street clothes in public 
places, since the war began, has been 
simply a custom until now. Last week an 
order was issued that no man or woman in 
evening clothes would be admitted to a 

[ 73 ] 



You Who Can Help 

theater until the end of the war, so now 
the only time evening clothes appear are 
at dinners in private houses. 

I seem to be switched off from warm 
clothes, but I am quite sure that none of 
us needs anything at present. But if you 
could send us a nice warm pair of socks for 
Moll's filleul we should be delighted. I 
bought him a pair of so-called hand-knit 
ones last week, but I know they are half 
cotton, and not for standing in a trench 
this winter. Moll is very much interested 
and is very faithful in looking after him, 
and she realizes that she is the one person 
he has to do anything for him. 

After this last Verdun offensive she was 
anxious to hear from him, and the first 
minute he had to sit down he wrote to her 
that he was all right but that the cannon- 
ading was so terrific that you could not 
hear yourself speak. 

Tuesday night we went to the Cafe de 
Paris to a dinner for a British general who 
had just been through the terrific Somme 
struggle. In one attack nineteen hundred 
men in his brigade were killed. I heard 
such stories of hand-to-hand fighting and 
gas attacks as one could scarcely believe, 
they all sounded so like savagery and bar- 

[ 74 ] 



You Who Can Help 

barism. The general said that he had 
withdrawn his men back of the Hne to rest 
and then it had occurred to him that a few 
hours in Paris away from the horror would 
do him a world of good. So with an aide 
and a French captain he got into his car 
and motored in, in six hours. They had 
had tea at Giro's and we were fortunate in 
being asked to the dinner his brother gave 
for him. He would spend the night and 
motor back in the morning. Does n't that 
seem odd? It certainly makes you realize 
that this war is still on French soil. 



\ 



[ 75 ] 



Paris, November 17, 191 6. 

I hope a boat will sail from Bordeaux 
this week. None sailed last week and let- 
ters were sent by way of England, which 
always takes ages. 

The sugar supply is getting terribly slim, 
and you can't buy even your pound, unless 
you make some other purchase, and you 
can't get it anyway unless they know you. 
And all day long there is a line outside of 
Potin's — the best grocer here — extend- 
ing more than a block. 

And now the question of heat and light 
is being met. The lights are turned off in 
every store at six o'clock. It surely adds 
to the dimness of Paris. Last night when 
I walked home about six o'clock, the whole 
place looked medizeval, — a little candle 
burning here and there in a store. To go 
to a drug-store and have them search for a 
tube of paste by the flickering light of a 
candle is too odd. Certain sections of the 
city have n't had any lights the past week. 
I have bought some common candles at 
large prices to be ready in case we had to 

[ 76 ] 



You Who Can Help 

do without lights altogether some night. 
It is cold out of doors here now. There 
is no sunshine. Our apartment is comfort- 
able so far. 

Wednesday, when I was at the Ambu- 
lance and saw the nurses and orderlies 
carrying many of the " Blesses " down- 
stairs in their arms, I could n't think what 
had happened. 

They were having a concert downstairs, 
and as they have been without electricity 
in Neuilly for several days, the elevators 
were not working, so the only way to get 
the poor things down to the concert was 
to carry them. And they had to go by the 
big open doors of the canteen where I was 
serving tea to the doctors and nurses. 
Coming down seemed a task, but to see the 
procession on the way upstairs and back 
to bed, all by the light of a few candles, 
was a sight. 

Night before last I had the most won- 
derful experience you could imagine. 
Eight of us decided that we would go 
down to the canteen in the Gare du Nord 
and give the men a " party." The canteen 
is a big room in the cellar of that big rail- 
road station and run by Mme. Courcelle, 
a Frenchwoman. Here men just in from 

[ 77 ] 



You Who Can Help 

the front without friends or money can 
get a bunk for the night. 

They come to this room, a guard checks, 
as it were, their equipment, so all responsi- 
bility of that is gone, and they are given 
a bunk. There is a long narrow table the 
entire length of the room, and two rows of 
bunks on either side, two hundred in all. 
The bunk is simply a blanket and pillow 
on a frame a couple of inches off the floor. 
Many just reach their bunks and sleep the 
sleep of the dead. If they have to take a 
night train they are wakened. The joy of 
a place to sleep, with all responsibility 
gone, and no danger of being killed the 
next minute, is heaven to them. 

We provided sandwiches, coffee, red 
and white wine, cigarettes and candy for 
our " party," and had a piano sent there. 
I went down about nine o'clock and the 
table had the appearance of a party, with 
carnations scattered down the center, 
which the men adored. There were about 
a hundred and sixty there then, each man 
sitting on the end of his blanket waiting 
to see what was going to happen. No one 
else but Mme. Courcelle had arrived, and 
even she does n't speak one word of Eng- 
lish. She told me the others would arrive 

[ 78 ] 



I 



You Who Can Help 

shortly, but I could wait for no one to 
arrive to open the party, when I had enor- 
mous boxes of cigarettes. So I started on 
the joy of giving cigarettes to them all, 
and putting a box into the pockets of those 
who were asleep. 

They were like children in their joy and 
appreciation. A few had some pretty 
pathetic stories, but as a lot they were very 
jolly. Shortly the others arrived with 
more cigarettes, candy, etc., and the party 
began. They all sat at this one table, and 
we were kept busy pouring wine and coffee 
for them, and listening to their chatter. 

Very early the singing began. They 
began naturally with the Marseillaise, and 
they all stood up with trench helmets in 
their hands and sang it with every bit of 
lung power they had. I thought the roof 
would come off the station. It was the 
most wonderful thing I ever heard, and 
in the most impressive surroundings. 
Many with the horror of war only a few 
hours behind them, and many to be back 
in the trenches in the morning, yet all sing- 
ing the Marseillaise as though the victory 
for France was all they asked. 

They adored the singing as much as we 
did, and I am sure they sang everything) 

[ 79 ] 



You Who Can Help 

that has ever been written in French. 
Many asked if they could sing solos, hav- 
ing been on the stage, or in the opera be- 
fore the war, so each was given a chance to 
do his parlor trick. About eleven o'clock 
at the door appeared a Russian general 
and his staff. The men all rose and sang 
in curious words the Russian National 
Hymn. They came in and they were a 
marvelous-looking lot of men, all about 
six feet or more. The general asked for 
the Marseillaise, so again the men sang 
it from beginning to end. 

While they were there, in came General 
Pau and his staff. At this the men nearly 
blew up ! — for Pau is very popular, and 
no one but Papa Joffre could have given 
them more joy. He is a dear-looking 
little man with white hair and moustache 
and his right arm gone, and the merriest 
twinkle to his eyes. If you use your imag- 
ination to its limit, you can in no way do 
justice to the way they sang the Marseil- 
laise for Pau. It was wonderful and I 
shall never forget it. 

Presently the Russian ambassador and 
four men with him came in, so our humble 
soldier party had a very distinguished ap- 
pearance. The Russian general was going 
[ 80 ] 



You Who Can Help 

from one spot on the front to another and 
was waiting for a train, and heard of our 
canteen party. Pau and his staff had come 
to the station, as did the Russian ambassa- 
dor, out of courtesy to this Russian gen- 
eral. So we had the pleasure of meeting 
them all, and they added to the men's 
pleasure. 

At midnight the party broke up and I 
came home having had one of the most 
wonderful times I ever had in my life. 
The appreciation of the men was pathetic 
and you only wished you had the strength 
and the money to do it every night. 



[ 8i ] 



Paris, November 23, 1916. 

Moll was interested to hear from you 
that someone wanted a filleul. I can get 
one for her, and for anyone else who will 
be good enough to write to the poor souls 
and send them a few things they need once 
in a while and things they don't need but 
like. And if she or anyone else who will 
take one thinks it easier they may do the 
letter writing and send me a few dollars 
once in a while and I will send packages 
for them. They can send me articles, too, 
that they would like put in the packages. 
These packages are all carried free of 
postage here; they have to be sewn up in 
white cloth which I will have attended to. 
And if they can't write the letters in 
French, I can (don't laugh!) and will get 
my French teacher to correct them before 
I send them. 

Last week Mollie had such a nice letter 
from her filleul near Verdun, thanking her 
" a million times " for the last package we 
sent, with socks and thin rubber chaussettes 
which go over the socks and, we hoped, 
would keep him warmer and dryer, for 

[ 82 ] 



You Who Can Help 

they are suffering with the cold and with 
frozen feet. 

In this letter he told her that In the 
middle of the night before their canton- 
ment had been shelled by the Germans, 
and when he went to that part of the trench 
where his horses were, they came to him 
for protection, and he stopped to " kiss 
them on the head." He, like every other 
artillery driver, is devoted to his horses 
and he loves to write Mollie about them, 
for they are both American horses. The 
day after this letter came, another arrived, 
saying, " At six o'clock this morning a Ger- 
man aeroplane flew over our line and 
dropped a bomb twenty-five meters from 
my baraque (hut for horses) ; the baraque 
is no more and both of my horses are 
blesses'''' (wounded). We all felt as if 
something had happened to our own pri- 
vate stable. We do not know how seri- 
ously they were wounded, but are glad he 
is all right. He comes In on permission 
in about two weeks, and we shall have to 
use all our spare sous In making his days 
here happy ones. 

Financially a flleul can amount to what 
you want it to, but on an average a dollar 
and a half a month, done carefully, is what 
it amounts to. [83] 



Paris, November 28, 191 6. 

Yesterday when Marlborough and I re- 
turned home we found Mollie and her 
filleul in the petit saloti, talking like 
magpies! Out of a clear sky he had ap- 
peared at three o'clock! He is a nice- 
looking fellow, only twenty-six, but he 
looks older, with his dark hair and mous- 
tache. He had on a brand new uniform, 
new shoes, leggins, and hat, which his cap- 
tain had issued to him to go on permission. 

He got his permission unexpectedly and 
did n't have time to write Mollie, and I 
was so glad she was at home. She had 
talked with him four hours when we ar- 
rived, and knew everything he had ever 
done, so she must have understood every- 
thing he had said to her. 

He had had tea with her. How I wish 
I had seen them I Although she had cakes, 
she asked him if he would like some bread 
and butter. This had pleased him to death, 
and Mollie said, " Mother, I guess there 
is n't any more bread and butter in the 
house, for he had n't had butter since 

1914I" 
[ 84 ] 




MOLLIE AND HER '•fILLEUL," PoULAIN LeON, OF THE 

io6th Regiment of Artillery 



You Who Can Help 

Marlborough found him very well in- 
formed and interesting, and we were both 
delighted with his most courteous manners ; 
yet how could he have them when he has 
been living in the trenches for two years 
and a half? 

He was so grateful for what Mollie had 
done for him, and she had made him tell 
her what he liked and needed most, and 
had asked him what he wanted to get in 
Paris. He told her that he wanted to get 
the three service stripes, for his two and a 
half years at the front, put on his new uni- 
form, so Mollie said, " I told him to get 
it done and I would pay for it, and it made 
him so happy." 

The French soldiers are paid four sous, 
or four cents, a day, so unless they have 
families to do things for them, their viar- 
raines are a god-send. He looks upon 
Mollie as a fairy godmother. 

After dinner Mollie gave him some 
money to spend in Paris, and after she had 
gone to bed he stayed here until eleven 
o'clock telling us most interesting things. 

He is staying at a canteen in Rouilly 
which is for men from the invaded coun- 
try, so it is not any expense to him or to 
us. He comes here for tea with Moll and 

[ 8J ] 



You Who Can Help 

Marlborough to-morrow; it is my day at 
the Ambulance. We shall send him to the 
cinema in the evening. The poor fellow 
said it was so odd not to hear guns all the 
time, for he has been at the Verdun front 
since last May, and not one day away 
from it. 



[ 86 ] 



Paris, December i, 1916. 

We thought of you all many times yester- 
day, recalling where we were last Thanks- 
giving and wondering where next year 
would find us. We let Moll decide what 
she would do — have a dinner at home or 
go to any cafe she might choose. We 
nearly died laughing when her choice was 
to go to the Italian restaurant on the 
Boulevard and have macaroni! So Marl- 
borough and Moll came down to the 
A. F. F. W. for me and we all went to 
the Italian restaurant, where Moll and I 
had a delicious mushroom omelette and 
tons of macaroni, while Marlborough ate 
tripe ! Now you know that is a most origi- 
nal Thanksgiving dinner. 

I am wondering what your papers are 
saying of conditions here in France. It is 
hard to see some of the optimism I have 
found prevalent here now giving way to 
a certain amount of pessimism. Rouma- 
nia's defeat is a calamity which everyone 
recognizes. And if Russia should break 
away from the Allies and offer a separate 
peace — France and England seem ter- 

[ 87 ] 



You Who Can Help 

ribly small! And France has sacrificed so 
large a part of her man-power already. 

We are still absolutely comfortable as to 
everything but can see that different times 
are near at hand. The two meatless days 
will never bother us, for there is always 
macaroni ! The regulation about these two 
days goes into effect soon, and they are 
talking about forbidding the making of all 
cake and pastry. But with eggs $1.20 a 
dozen, butter seventy-five cents a pound, 
and sugar hard to get, what encouragement 
has one to make cake ? All the laundresses 
had advanced their charges ten per cent, 
and there is talk about closing all the laun- 
dries on account of lack of coal. If they do 
we shall have to wear black. The lights in 
Paris are now not enough to speak of and 
last night at eight it looked like a city at 
three o'clock in the morning. 



[ 88 1 



Paris, December 4, 191 6. 

It has been freezing here, but when I 
think of the thousands suffering In the 
trenches not many miles from here, cold 
out of doors, when you have a warm house, 
Is nothing to complain of. 

I had a most Interesting motor trip 
to-day, going to Villlers-sur-Marne to take 
things to a big tubercular hospital there. 
The hospital, 1 believe, was more pathetic 
than the hospitals for wounded, for all the 
poor souls seemed to be there waiting to 
die. I know many are cured, but nothing 
but a miracle would cure any of the poor 
fellows who were occupying the hundred 
and sixty beds in the hospital I visited 
to-day. 

This has been a busy day, ending with 
the departure of Moll's filleiil to-night. 
We have given him, I know, a happy eight 
days, and now he is back to Verdun again. 
It made Moll very happy to do things for 
him, and to-night when he left she gave 
him a pacqiiet to take back with him, 
with socks, tobacco, cigarettes, crackers, 
jam, and conserves, etc. 

[ 89 ] 



You Who Can Help 

Yesterday we took Moll with the fil- 
leul to Luna Park, to a " Fair pour le 
Soldat^^^ and we did everything there, in- 
cluding the cinema and the concert, and 
Moll enjoyed it all as much as he did. 
And she bought him an electric pocket- 
light which made him perfectly happy. 

I hated to have him go back. He goes 
as far as a place called Dugny by train, 
and to get to his battery he has to walk 
six miles from there, over a road that is 
continually being shelled, for it is the road 
on which all supplies and ammunition are 
taken to Verdun. 



[ 90 ] 



Paris, December 8, 1916. 

You ask for suggestions about what to 
send. I can only say: everything will be 
welcomed. And if you are making just one 
kind of garment, let your shipment be just 
that; it doesn't have to be a mixed box. 
Anything and everything warm will be 
wonderful for the next three months. If 
they have any big drive in the Vosges, think 
of the warm things needed. Canton-flannel 
pajamas and hospital shirts they are al- 
ways short of, — and " gilets,^^ which are 
gray Canton-flannel sleeveless shirts and, 
I should think, easy to make. If you can 
get hold of gauze by the bolt they like it 
that way a lot. And if you can make part 
of a shipment rubber goods, it would be 
excellent: rubber sheeting, tubing, gloves, 
hot-water bags, and ice-bags. In the pock- 
ets of garments that have pockets you can 
put a handkerchief and a picture-postcard 
with a word and some name and address; 
the men adore them. If your things hap- 
pen to be cotton instead of Canton-flannel, 
they are just as much needed, but at this 
time of year are sent farther — Salonica, 

[ 91 ] 



You Who Can Help 

for example — and will probably take 
longer to hear from. 

Things like socks — things with per- 
sonal work in them — you might mail to 
me, for when I go to the railroad stations 
and canteens I always find many poor fel- 
lows who are in need of another pair of 
socks or something warm, as they are 
going out to stand in cold mud and water, 
and so many of those gifts are more or 
less personal and it is hard to buy things 
of real wool here. 

Both of my maids have filleuls, cousins, 
and friends they are constantly getting 
letters from and sending things to and I 
try to get them the warm things which 
they can't afford to buy to give them for 
their relatives and friends. Sophie, the 
second maid, a young, good-looking, pink- 
cheeked girl, is from the invaded district 
and has n't heard a word from her family 
for two years and a half. She fortunately 
has a sister in Paris so that is a comfort, 
but you know what a strain she must be 
under. 



[ 92 ] 



Paris, December ii, 191 6. 

To-day has been a busy one, but so much 
to do It has flown. I was at my " shop " 
— the A. F. F. W. — all the morning, with 
a half hour out for luncheon, and at it 
again until five. At five-thirty I went to a 
French canteen in the Latin Quarter to 
help serve supper, and arrived home at 
about eight. 

I just wish you could have seen this can- 
teen. It all seemed like the French Revo- 
lutionary times, and a sight I shall never 
forget. It is run by a Madame Destray on 
rue Luxembourg and the soldiers on per- 
mission who are from the invaded coun- 
try, or have n't any place to go to are 
given tickets which allow them to get two 
meals a day here, without any expense to 
them. All the money to run it is begged, 
and every morning French shop-girls be- 
fore going to work go down to the big mar- 
ket with big baskets, and beg any and all 
the vegetables and stew-meat they can get. 

The canteen is a big, dingy, grimy room, 
just off a cobbled courtyard, and has three 
long tables, each seating twenty-five men. 

[ 93 ] 



You Who Can Help 

And such a collection of pathetic human- 
ity was there this rainy night! French, 
Belgians, Zouaves from Morocco, and a 
couple of black men from the Soudan. 
They each get a bowl of hot soup, then a 
plate filled with a vegetable stew, — all 
kinds of vegetables stewed together, — 
and on top a piece of stew-meat, and bread, 
a bowl of beer, and about a tablespoonful 
of apple sauce. 

Mme. Destray had someone to help her 
take the stuff from the caldrons and put 
it on the plates, and my companion and I 
worked like beavers feeding the seventy- 
five starved men. They ate so much I 
should have thought they would have 
popped, but it was nothing to them. 

My good, bad, and indifferent French 
seemed to be welcomed by those poor souls 
who were glad to say a few words before 
they left. One pathetic Zouave chasseur 
came to me and wanted to know if I would 
be his " godmother," poor soul; he looked 
as though he had never had anyone give 
him anything in his life. He looked cold 
and poorly clad, but I had to tell him I 
had all I could do and keep up with, but 
that I would try to get a marraine for him. 
If I had only had a pair of the socks that 

[ 94 ] 



You Who Can Help 

mother knits up my sleeve, or on my feet, 
to give to him, it would have made him 
so happy. 

One of the two burly black men from the 
Soudan spoke perfect English; he said he 
had learned it in school before he learned 
French, but that he did n't have much 
" opportunity " to talk English and thought 
his French was better. With all his big 
words his English was better than my 
French, so I gave him a chance to talk 
English. 

I had to go to another room across the 
court for extra bread, where refugees were 
being fed. A motley crowd of women and 
children were packed into a big room which 
was like a cellar and were given bowls of 
soup. 

The whole thing was something I shall 
never forget and I hope to go again some 
time. 



[ 95 ] 



Paris, December 20, 19 16. 

I was so interested to hear, in your letter 
of Thanksgiving Day, about the box you 
were to send, and I know beforehand how 
fine it is going to be, and I know how hard 
you have worked to get it together and off. 

The twenty-five comfort bags I shall try 
to get hold of to distribute myself, and am 
quite sure I can, and I am already planning 
to send some to one or two pathetic men 
I know about. And there are some men 
in hospitals I would like to give one to. 
Although the Fund is for wounded, the 
comfort bags are very often given to men 
who are going out, — men from the in- 
vaded country who have no one to give 
them anything. 

As for the blankets, sheets, rubber 
goods, and clothes, I can't begin to tell 
you what relief they are going to bring to 
many poor suffering souls. I have every 
reason to believe that I shall be able to 
follow up the things you send and I shall 
be most impatient until they arrive, and 
let 's not consider the thought that they 
may go to the bottom. 

[ 96 ] 



You Who Can Help 

To-day I went to the Gare du Nord 
again to see a train off. It was so thrilling 
and so wonderful and yet particularly sad 
to see them all going out right on the eve 
of a holiday season. Eighteen hundred 
men went and there were just the two of 
us and Madame Courcelle of the canteen, 
who is always there. 

This time I started 'way up by the en- 
gine and had the idea of working my way 
to the end during the hour I had. The 
minute I appeared with my cigarettes, men, 
trench helmets, and packs, all came tum- 
bling out of the coaches, crying, " Vive 
rAmericame " and " Avez-vous cigarettes 
pour les poilus!^'' I had a perfect time 
and it was a joy to give the four hundred 
packages of cigarettes that I had, but I 
hated to see the other fourteen hundred 
men. 

Then came the fun of assisting Madame 
Courcelle with the hot coffee, bread, and 
mandarins. She had a truck, with huge 
tankards of hot coffee and baskets of bread 
and fruit, and trimmed with flags. The 
men pile around fifty deep, with their own 
tin cups, and you give them coffee and 
bread. And to those who cannot get near 
enough you toss mandarins to over the 

[ 97 ] 



You Who Can Help 

heads of the others. They loved it, and 
laughed and joked over the American 
" bombs " and " grenades." Poor souls, 
— many of them in a few days will meet 
bombs and grenades of another kind I I 
am so thrilled when I go down to those 
trains, and I hope to get permission for 
Marlborough to go some day. But one 
can't take anyone else along, without end- 
less red tape. When I have my pass to go, 
I do not want to run the risk of losing it 
by asking favors. So I just thank my lucky 
stars that I have one, and go ahead alone. 
If it ever does anything but rain here I 
am going to see if a camera is allowed, but 
it has rained for six weeks straight and 
not since September has there been a day 
with real sun. 

All the spare moments I have had, I 
have been trying to think how we can meet 
the new economical conditions which were 
published to-day, to go into effect Decem- 
ber 26. Gas in all households Is to be 
limited to one cu. meter per day and elec- 
tricity to three hectowatts. We burn as 
little as possible anyway, but I find my bills 
average about seven cu. meters of gas a 
day and nine hectowatts of electricity. 

Cutting down on electricity will be just 

[ 98 ] 



You Who Can Help 

an inconvenience, for we shall have to save 
it for the kitchen and for writing in the 
evenings, and for plain eating, sitting, and 
going to bed shall use candles. 

The cook said the gas allowance would 
only do for hot water and breakfast, and 
possibly luncheon. Just what dinner is to 
be cooked on the Lord only knows. Coal 
you can't get, and is like diamonds when 
you do get it, but I think there are bri- 
quettes, or something like that, which can 
be had in tiny quantities and don't cost 
quite a million. 

But you have no idea what a funny feel- 
ing it is, to be told that you can't use some- 
thing which could be used by just turning 
it on, but if your meters read over your 
allowance they cut your gas and electricity 
off entirely. This is certainly an experi- 
ence, living in a country at war, and it is 
strange how comfortable you can be, and 
how things that seemed necessities really 
are not. 



[ 99 ] 



Paris, December 24, 1916. 

These days are busy ones. We had a 
number of guests to dinner Friday evening, 
and Friday noon had Captain and Mrs. 

R for luncheon at the Cafe de Paris. 

He is a Belgian aviator. He was leaving 
the next day for the front again, and she 
was going to Dunkirk to live, so as to be 
near him. 

She was good enough to ask me to come 
and see her, and if I could ever get a per- 
mit to go, I should certainly love to get 
that much nearer. But about the only 
thing you can do is to sit in the spot which 
you and the police call home, and ask for 
nothing. The police know where all 
strangers are, and it simplifies matters if 
you stay there. 

Last evening — the Saturday evening 
before Christmas — Marlborough and 
Mollie went with me to Madame De- 
stray's canteen for the Christmas party 
and supper. There were about seventy- 
five soldiers there and we had the place 
quite festive with holly and flags, and the 
dismal canteen looked quite Christmaslike. 
[ 100 ] 



You Who Can Help 

The men were given a good substantial 
supper, and Mollie enjoyed giving them 
the seventy-five packages of chocolate she 
had tied up with tricolor ribbon. Four or 
five American Ambulance boys sang and 
played, and several other people sang or 
did their parlor trick. And the party 
ended with the men standing with caps, 
trench helmets, etc., off, singing at the top 
of their voices the Marseillaise. Before 
each one left, we gave him a comfort bag. 
To go around among them as they look 
over the contents of the bags is a joy. 
They get so excited and so thrilled over 
the most trifling things, and the pleasure 
it gives them is infinite. 

Mollie thoroughly enjoyed it, and as 
you well know was as helpful as a grown- 
up. One man collapsed at the table and 
had to be carried out, but it was only caused 
by a wound in his head breaking open. I 
feared more for Mollie than the man at 
the time, but fortunately she thought it was 
just too much Christmas and went about 
her business. 



[ loi ] 



Paris, Christmas Morning, 191 6. 

After breakfast to-day Marlborough 
and I went down to the Gare du Nord to 
see a train off. None of the girls wanted 
to promise to get there Christmas morn- 
ing, so I said I would go, for I thought it 
would be a grand chance to take Marl- 
borough. And it worked perfectly. I got 
him through without any trouble, and he 
was as thrilled as I. 

We decorated each coach door where 
there is an iron bar with a bunch of mistle- 
toe and a French flag. It was the prettiest 
thing you ever saw, and it made the eight- 
een hundred men so happy, and it gave 
the train such a festive Christmas appear- 
ance. We took several hundred pieces of 
chocolate and eight hundred cigarettes, and 
we both worked like beavers until the train 
pulled out, and then stood and waved until 
the last coach was around the bend. It 
was wonderful, and I would n't have 
missed it for anything in the world, and 
it never fails to give you a thrill as nothing 
else does. And the day was one of gor- 
geous sunshine, a thing we had n't had for 
months. 

[ 102 ] 



Paris, January i, 191 7. 

There is so much to do here, and so 
much that can be done, that you don't know 
which way to turn. And there are always 
the special hospitals, which are interesting, 
— the jaw hospitals, the one-eye hospitals, 
the tubercular, and the hospitals for those 
burned by liquid fire. The trouble is that 
the days are n't long enough, and likewise 
the pocket-book. 

Saturday morning I went to a pathetic 
little hospital on rue Pouchet, off boule- 
vard de Clichy, which as you know is 
in the poorest part of Paris. The 
A. F. F. W. gave each of the workers who 
had been there a certain length of time 
fifty comfort bags to distribute at New 
Year's in any hospital they wished. I 
wanted to go to a really poor one and 
I guess I found it. 

There was just one big room, with no 
windows, but a glass-effect roof, so it was 
very light, and fifty-three beds. It looked 
as if it might have been a garage at one 
time. There were two nuns running it. 
I asked who supported it and was told that 

[ 103 ] 



You Who Can Help 

it was principally supported by the poor 
people in that section of the city, and that 
they knew of more than one family who 
sent their beds and were now sleeping on 
the floor. 

Those same poor people sent bed- 
clothes, etc., and the forlorn place looked 
pretty grimy and needy. When the men 
saw me appear with a big sack filled with 
the fifty bags they were so excited that I 
felt quite sure a visitor was a rare thing. 

I went to each bed and gave them their 
bags, and I can't tell you what joy was in 
their faces as they opened the bags and 
examined each little thing. As always I 
had my big box of cigarettes and made my 
second round with those. This was a long 
process for they all wanted to show me 
what they had in their bags, and always 
to read the address they found within. 
And the ones who did n't find any address 
almost wept. A line written with an ad- 
dress is the most personal letter to them, 
as most of them have n't had a letter since 
the war began, and they almost blow up 
with excitement. 

It was a dreadful thing to be three bags 
short, but I am going to take them the first 
spare moment I have. 

[ 104 ] 



You Who Can Help 

The money you collected and cabled has 
just come. You are all dears and I thank 
you from the bottom of my heart. It will 
begin to bless endless hearts in endless 
ways and I am only sorry that you can't 
be here and see it all, but I will write to 
you of it. 

I am looking for the arrival of your first 
shipment and only hope that at the Boston 
office of the A. F. F. W. a green ticket was 
put on designating it for me, for then no 
time is lost in my getting hold of it. I 
have no end of places where I want to send 
the things. 

If some of the youngsters you know 
would collect pictures for scrap-books and 
give a Saturday morning or two to pasting 
them in, or if they can't find time to paste 
them in books would send them as they are 
— any time you are sending a box — I can 
p'-t some soldiers in the hospitals to paste 
-m in books for me and then I will get 
them to the homes where there are hun- 
dreds of little refugee children and war 
orphans. They long for scrap-books. And 
when it is a case of magazine pictures it 
seems a shame not to send them. 



[ 105 ] 



Paris, January lo, 191 7. 

This past week has seen many things 
go up in price, among the most common 
articles milk, which is now ninety centimes, 
or eighteen cents a quart. And there is no 
longer a ten-centime or two-cent postage in 
Paris, or France, for that matter; it is fif- 
teen centimes, or three cents. 

The papers say we are about to have 
sugar tickets, the allowance one pound a 
month per person, but that has n't struck 
yet. But all these things are the same for 
all, so you do the best you can. Cigarettes 
also have mounted in price, but for the 
French ones, which are soldier ones, we 
understand it is only a temporary advance. 
The other day I could n't get any place to 
sell me more than one box of a hundred; 
so this shortage bothers me more than any. 

In my last letter I told you of going to 
the little poor hospital on rue Pouchet with 
New Year's surprise bags. One day last 
week Mrs. C had a box of things ar- 
rive from Boston, and she was good 
enough to give me some sheets, hospital 
[ 106 ] 



You Who Can Help 

shirts, etc. ; I took her with me and we went 
to visit the pathetic place again. 

It was nice to have the poor souls re- 
member me, and as I went from bed to bed, 
giving them cigarettes, they would reach 
for their surprise bags and say they had n't 

forgotten me. As Mrs. B was so 

sweet and good as to send me $25, and 
perfectly willing to have it spent in cigar- 
ettes, my first expenditure of my " fund," 
as I call it, was a dollar for this poor place, 
where a few cigarettes are like a million 
dollars in the cheer they give. So I told 
them " une amie Americaine " sent them 
and they loved it. I am quite sure if Mrs. 

B had been with me she would have 

wept like a child to see the pleasure her 
first dollar gave. Not only do they adore 
cigarettes, but to be remembered by some- 
one gives them a little cheer for the day. 

There was one pretty sick boy who had 
just arrived from Salonica the day before, 
the color of saffron and too weak to speak; 
he did n't look as if he could last long. 
The nurse said to put some cigarettes on 
his little table, although he could n't move 
and was probably too sick to notice it, but 
if he was conscious she did n't want him 
to feel that he had been overlooked, 

[ 107 ] 



You Who Can Help 

I put them there and said they were 
for him, and in a husky whisper the poor 
soul murmured " Merci^^'' and tried to 
smile. 

I went into another hospital on rue Le- 
mercier, which is in the Clichy part of 
Paris, and found one of the nuns spoke 
English, and came from Norwalk, Con- 
necticut, originally. She had only about 
forty in her little place, and they all seemed 
well cared for. One poor youngster was 
sitting up in bed, and although he was 
bound up to sort of a frame, he seemed 
jolly and happy. He said he was so well 
cared for, and " I never had so much in 
my life." The nurse turned to me and 
said, " Don't you call that courage, for 
both his arms are gone and both shoulders 
blown off?" 

I had a Miss Dagmar here for luncheon 
to-day. She is a Swede and an opera 
singer, has been in grand opera for years. 
I wanted to talk with her about a party I 
am about to give. 

I have n't done anything for the blind 
since I have been here, for until I got here 
I did n't realize that an absolutely perfect 
knowledge of French was necessary. You 
have got to talk to them for amusement 
[ io8 ] 



You Who Can Help 

every minute and you have to devote 
yourself to an individual; for unless you 
are talking with someone personally, you 
might as well be down town shopping for 
all the good you do him, whereas In a visit 
to a hospital ward you can say a word here 
and there, and they are entertained watch- 
ing you with the others. 

So I have had doing something for the 
blind on my mind, and of course music Is 
their only entertainment. And now that 
I have a " fund," thanks to you all, I am 
going to have a concert here for the blind 
a week from Sunday. I can easily seat In 
my salon, hall, and dining-room, which all 
open up together wonderfully, a hundred 
and fifty, and I am going to Invite a hun- 
dred blind. 

Miss Dagmar said she would get all the 
artists for me, and they would all be pro- 
fessionals, Including a Russian pianist. It 
will be hard to have them manage cups and 
saucers, so I am going to give them red 
wine, rolls, cakes, and cigarettes. One 
poor soul who Is coming Is blind and 
has n't any arms; In fact, many are muti- 
lated as well as blind. The ones who 
are just blind are principally liquid fire 
cases. 

[ 109 ] 



You Who Can Help 

Don't you think it will be wonderful? 
And I can't tell you how happy I am to 
have the money to do it. I think to give 
a hundred blind miitiles something besides 
their misfortune to think about will be a 
joy. 



[ no ] 



Paris, January ii, 191 7. 

I have just put my first experience in a 
Zeppelin raid behind me, and right here let 
me tell you it is, without exception, the 
most helpless and horrible sensation you 
can imagine, and may I never know 
another! 

I came in about six-thirty, and about 
seven came the horrible fire-engines 
through the streets, preceded by bugles, 
which only means one thing, — put out 
your lights, the Zeppelins are coming! 
Never can I describe the helplessness of 
my sensations. All my Iron shutters were 
closed but those on the kitchen, and these 
the maids shut at once, so no lights from 
our windows could be seen. At the same 
time the telephone central turns a buzzer 
on all the wires and in an instant " tout 
le monde " knows the " Zepps " are ar- 
riving. 

I tried to be as matter of fact as pos- 
sible, but I was petrified. Moll said, " I 
wish there never was such a thing as war; 
I wish we were n't so far from home." 
Personally I would have gladly been in Bal- 

[ III ] 



You Who Can Help 

lardvale. About seven-thirty Marlborough 

and Major L came in, stayed for 

awhile and then both departed for town to 
observe from some spot which was open 
any anti-aircraft shooting which might take 
place. 

They wanted Moll and me to go with 
them, but it is a very cold night, and I 
knew both Moll and I were extra cold 
from nervousness, and feared one or the 
pair of us might take cold or get sick, and 
knew that right here was the best place for 
both of us. Before nine o'clock the bugles 
sounded in the streets again, which is the 
*' all out," " danger past," signal. So I 
put Moll to bed, after we had dinner. I 
can't say that expecting a bomb any mo- 
ment is a help towards enjoying dinner! 



[ 112 ] 



Paris, January 17, 191 7. 

Moll is delighted that five dollars of the 
money you sent is for her filleul. She Is 
going to save it until he comes in again, 
which will be at the end of next month. I 
will send him some more socks when the 
ones arrive that you have sent. This min- 
ute I feel like putting them all on myself ! 
It happens to be a very cold, sloppy day, 
but we manage to keep warm, and al- 
though our gas is very much cut down, we 
can have an open fire by ordering a sack 
of wood. You order wood one day — you 
can get only a small amount at a time — 
and you get it two days later, a bagful that 
you could easily carry under your arm. 
But even that is a luxury and a joy. 

I often wish you were all over here, for 
there is work here which suits you all, but 
there is also a certain amount of comfort 
in being in a country which is not harassed 
by war. And when I thought I had a 
Zeppelin on my roof, I wished I had never 
heard the word war, and as " wonderful 
experiences " I thought nothing of them. 

Yesterday it was snowing and " slushy " 

[ "3 ] 



You Who Can Help 

and a bitter day, so I took ten francs of 
my " fund " and with my cigarettes went 
to the Gare du Nord. There were sixteen 
hundred men leaving for the front and a 
dismal day it was to return to the trenches. 
I made my four hundred cigarettes go as 
far as possible and then I gave hot coffee 
to hundreds of them. And as the wind 
and snow blew down those tracks, I assure 
you that a cup of hot coffee was something 
of a comfort. 

A couple of North African cavalrymen 
came along, looking half-frozen, and when 
I offered them coffee, and then gave them 
cigarettes, one poor soul put down his pack, 
and took out a pathetic little purse, and 
was about to pay me for what he had had. 
And when he discovered it was a gift, he 
said he never would forget me, and shook 
my hand in farewell as though I had saved 
his life. After only giving them two or 
three cigarettes apiece hundreds stop and 
shake you by the hand. 

It did strike me as curious yesterday, as 
the train pulled out, and around the bend, 
hundreds were hanging out of windows 
and doors, and there I stood alone, waving 
a big empty blue cigarette box in each 
hand, and, as each coach went by, calling 

[ "4 ] 



You Who Can Help 

out, ''Bon chance/'' As the last coach 
pulled round the bend, and I found myself 
in the wind and snow, with the excitement 
gone, and I walked down towards the sta- 
tion, it struck me what a funny thing it was, 
— a foreign country, and all speaking a 
foreign language, and not one of them 
knowing who I was, or I who they were, 
and yet the whole thing seemed so 
personal ! 

Mme. Courcelle, who has charge of the 
Gare du Nord French canteen, is always 
there at the train, but she was called away 
just before the train left yesterday. She 
is wonderful, so bright and cheerful; she 
tries to give them all a jolly send-off, and 
I think she always succeeds. 

In the afternoon I was at the Ambu- 
lance, and it was such a bad day that no 
one else turned up to help, so I did the 
Child's restaurant act with both hands and 
both feet. Afterwards there were so many 
cakes left that I went up through the cor- 
ridors with a huge platter of cakes in each 
hand, and gave one to each blesse I met. 
Some were without legs, arms, and lower 
jaws, and yet if they had one hand left 
they got a cake from me. 

My concert for the blind is coming along 

[ "5 ] 



You Who Can Help 

well and to-day I had a blind man whom 

Mrs. N is interested in come and tune 

my piano; she hires a small boy to take 
him about. She has a one-legged man she 
is helping, and as soon as he can use his 
wooden leg well enough, she is going to 
hire him to take the blind one around. 
Sunday this blind one is coming to the 
concert. 



[ Ii6 ] 



Paris, January 23, 191 7. 

In all my spare moments last week I 
was planning for my concert for the blind 
which I had Sunday afternoon. 

I had hoped to have a hundred of the 
blind, but one hospital did n't want to allow 
theirs to come, as the authorities do not 
like to have many seen at a time on account 
of the effect on the people at large, which 
is, of course, quite all right. Ten blind 
men in your house at one time seem many, 
but I was perfectly happy in having forty- 
seven blind here, and about a hundred 
people in all. It was really a wonderful 
experience, and I would have given a great 
deal if you could have looked in on our 
party, and could have seen the happiness 
which thirty dollars was giving. 

The first man arrived half an hour early. 
Of the forty-seven there were all kinds and 
descriptions, — African cavalry with their 
red fez, chasseurs, men in red and men in 
blue; many were without one arm, but all 
had both legs. One Moroccan about seven 
feet tall, with his head all bandaged up, 
and with hardly a square inch on his face 
which was n't a big dent, made by frag- 

[ "7 ] 



You Who Can Help 

ments of shell, was beaming with happi- 
ness. And Miss P , who brought him, 

told me the next morning that he had been 
looking forward to leaving the hospital and 
going to a little place outside of Paris, to 
learn a trade, but going back to the hospi- 
tal in the taxi from here, he said, " I don't 
believe I want to leave Paris, now, I did n't 
know there was a place where I could enjoy 
so much." 

And Mrs. L , who brought one 

from Val de Grace, went to see him the 
next morning and he said, *' Please tell 
madame for me that I feel thirty years 
younger. For the first time since I lost my 
eyes I felt that life was worth living. I 
did n't know I ever could enjoy anything 
again; I am a new man." 

It was satisfactory beyond words to see 
them here, and I hope you can realize the 
joy you gave with your money for my 
*' fund." 

Four came in from the Ambulance. 

O brought two of them, and Mrs. 

H two. One of these had an entirely 

new face from the eyes down and, although 
he looks curious, he does n't look de- 
formed; it is wonderful what surgery has 
been done in this war. 

[ ii8 ] 



You Who Can Help 

The rugs had been taken up, all the fur- 
niture removed, and a hundred small chairs 
hired for the occasion. There was plenty 
of room, and the scanty furnishings of our 
apartment were for once an advantage. 

The men of course got the best seats, 
and everyone else stood at the rear of the 
dining-room or in the hall. In addition to 
the real opera singers, there was a quartet 
of British boy scouts, and a violinist who 
is now a private in the clerical part of the 
medical department, but who must have 
been a very well-known man before the 
war. 

I won't try to describe anything, except 
to say that everyone was fine and pleased 
the men immensely. The violinist seemed 
to us ignorant Americans about the finest 
we had ever heard, and even the musical 
people present gave him a big ovation and 
insisted on his playing again after the pro- 
gramme was finished. Most of the music 
was either classical or patriotic except that 
of the last performer, who was a little 
white-faced, ex-vaudeville artiste, with 
short hair and a wise old head on her 
young shoulders. She was singing at a 
cafe-concert in Belgium at the beginning of 
the war and lost clothes, job, and every- 

[ "9 ] 



You Who Can Help 

thing else. Her main Idea was to sing and 
recite what the men liked. It was too 
slangy for us to get, but Miss Dagmar 
laughed and said, " The reputation of the 
house is gone now! " But it did no harm 
and made the afternoon end in a laugh 
from those poor fellows who have so little 
to laugh at now that their light has failed. 

Halfway through the programme we 
served a glass of vin ordinaire (which now 
costs twenty cents a quart 1) and a bit of a 
cake to each soldier, — little cakes which 
were not messy and which the poor fellows 
could handle neatly. It was a privilege to 
ask them if they would have some, hear 
their polite reply, and see the pleased ex- 
pression come over their mutilated faces. 
Then it was another privilege to guide their 
fingers to the stem of the wineglass and 
place the cake in their other hand — if 
there was another hand. Several of them 
made a little ceremony of drinking the 
wine, and said, " A voire sante, Madame,^^ 
or " A VAmerique,''^ as they raised their 
glasses. A few did n't want any at all, but 
asked for lemonade. When they were told 
that there was also tea, they said, " We are 
French, not English ! " 

There are not words enough to tell you 
[ I20 ] 



You Who Can Help 

half of the pathos and tragedy crowded 
Into our little apartment that afternoon 
or half the many ways in which we tried 
to make at least one day less dark to those 
men whose light has gone out. But I can- 
not pass over one couple who came in — a 
middle-aged man who had recently mar- 
ried a seventeen-year-old girl. She told us 
that her brother-in-law, of whom she was 
very fond, had died that morning and that 
she was broken-hearted, but that she 
had n't spoiled her husband's day by telling 
him about it yet because he had been look- 
ing forward to the concert ever since he 
had been invited and because it would have 
broken him all up not to come. Many 
thoughtless Americans here comment on 
the fact that they are doing so much while 
the French women apparently are not do- 
ing their share. I think that they forget 
that they have come over here expressly 
for relief work, that they are free and 
often are wealthy and that they have no 
griefs of their own. Many of the French 
women are bearing double or triple sor- 
rows like the seventeen-year-old wife of 
the blind man, and everyone of them has 
given someone to France. Moreover they 
have the practical problem of feeding and 

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You Who Can Help 

clothing their children which the American 
relief workers know nothing of. It is a 
many-sided question which no one Is big 
enough to comprehend in all its aspects. 

When the programme was finished and 
the wonderful violinist had played a second 
time we again served wine and cake to the 
men and tea to the others. The men were 
at last allowed to smoke, which pleased 
them a lot, as the singers had requested 
that they refrain during the singing on ac- 
count of their fifty-thousand-dollar throats. 

Then began the best part of the after- 
noon. Those poor souls actually began to 
talk amongst themselves, to tell tales of the 
war, to describe how they were wounded, 
to tell about their hospitals, their nurses 
and their marraines and families, and to 
ask about their regiments and the luck of 
their comrades. I think that the warmth 
and the music and the welcome made them 
this way, for before the singing began they 
had hardly said a word. 

They lingered for at least half an hour 
and did n't seem to want to go then, but 
the people who had them in charge were 
naturally anxious to get them safely back- 
before dark. 

As each man left I bade him " Good- 
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You Who Can Help 

bye " and handed him a surprise bag which 
had come into the A. F. F. W. There 
was n't a man who did n't thank me politely 
and most sincerely for the bag, the good 
time, and the American sympathy behind 
it all. 

Mollie was very grown up and helpful 
and tactful. Her knowledge of French 
helped her understand what the men said 
and wanted. If you could have seen her 
you would have been very proud of her. 



[ 123 ] 



Paris, January 27, 191 7. 

I must sit down and tell how much 

M 's first eight dollars did to help 

those who were in most trying need. 

I received a letter from a Mrs. Butler 
who is a Frenchwoman, married to an Eng- 
lishman who has been killed. In this letter 
she said she was a nurse at a temporary 
dispensary where the wives and children 
of the men at the front could go and re- 
ceive medical and surgical attention free. 
You see all the hospitals which were hos- 
pitals before the war are filled with men, 
and naturally all the temporary ones are 
simply for military purposes. So the poor 
women and children had nowhere to go. 

Several French women opened this free 
dispensary in the " Pavilion Ledoyer," 
which is directly across the Champs Elysees 
from my " Shop," and like mine was a 
cafe before the war. The great present 
need seemed to be for towels and it was 
a pressing need. I inquired whether I 
could get some from the A. F. F. W., but 
could n't, for they were women and not 
French wounded. So I took a taxi and 

[ 124 ] 



You Who Can Help 

went to the Gallery Lafayette, and with 
eight dollars of my " fund " purchased 
five dozen small and poor towels, and then 
up I went with Marlborough to the " Poly- 
chinique Ledoyen." 

Mrs. Butler's gratitude was very real; 
she said, " There is n't a towel in the 
place." It sounded a little exaggerated, 
but we listened to her profuse gratitu-de. I 
told her that I had been able to get them 
with some money that had been sent me. 
She disappeared with the large package, in 
search of the wonderful doctor who would 
be so grateful. This doctor, she said, was 
considered remarkable, and she said how 
wonderful she thought it was for him to 
give up his practice and devote every min- 
ute to relief work, either at that place or 
in hospitals. 

Presently she came and announced that 
the doctor was ready to receive us in his 
office, and you can imagine our sensations 
as we walked into his office to find he was 
as black as the ace of spades ! He is from 
Hayti, tall and really very handsome, im- 
maculate in his hospital garb, spoke Eng- 
lish perfectly, and had the manners and 
courtesy of a gentleman of royal birth. 

I asked all about the work he was doing, 

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You Who Can Help 

and told him I would try to help them out 
in getting supplies from time to time, for 
they are doing a tremendous work and hav- 
ing a pretty hard time to get things. He 
thanked me profusely for the gift of towels 
and said they never needed anything so 
badly. And shortly he took us over the 
place, and, as he opened the door into the 
operating-room, I could see that a young 
boy about Mollie's age was on the operat- 
ing table having his shoulder dressed. 
There were three or four nurses in attend- 
ance. 

The package of towels I had just 
brought was lying opened on a chair, and 
already several of them in use. We were 
not expected in there, but to see with our 
own eyes what we had taken put right into 
use, made us realize that there was no ex- 
aggeration in their gratitude, and that 
their need was beyond words. 

The doctor said that the soldiers had 
been appreciative of what had been done 
for their families; and often a man on 
permission would go to see the doctor 
and thank him for what he had done for 
his family. 

It was wonderful to be able to do this 
for them, and I thank my " fund " con- 
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You Who Can Help 

tributors from the bottom of my heart. I 
am spreading out as carefully as possible 
and trying to help the most needy with the 
money you all so generously sent me at 
Xmas time. And I am trying to do a little 
in some of the various things which are 
so appealing, as well as to give the soldiers 
who are well and still fighting a little joy. 

I appreciate more than I can tell you the 
money you all sent to me, for I am able to 
do so much more. I had to do what I 
could financially, then stop until the next 
month. Now, I have a real emergency 
fund ! But not a day passes that something 
so appealing does not turn up. To-night 
Mollie came home filled with the story of 
a little refugee who came to her school 
to-day. The principal had taken her in, 
given her a bath and food, and a few warm 
things, and was going to keep her for the 
present. It is freezing cold and the child 
did n't have any hat or anything warm. 
The children were asked to bring some- 
thing for her to-morrow, if they had any- 
thing. So Mollie has done up a package 
with some underclothes, a pair of woolen 
gloves, and her brown velour hat. And 
she said, " Is n't it wonderful to actually 
see these people who need your things? " 

[ 127 ] 



You Who Can Help 

This past week I have had several let- 
ters from the families of the blind men 
who were here last Sunday, and their ap- 
preciation of the afternoon here was pa- 
thetic. That afternoon is really wonderful 
to look back upon. 

Our minds really are on nothing but the 
preparations which are being made for an 
early spring drive. I fear it is coming 
early, and I hate to think of the thousands 
who are at the front now, who will never 
come back. 



[ 128 ] 



Paris, January 31, 191 7. 

To-day I have had a strenuous day. I 
worked until eleven and then went to the 
Gare du Nord with a couple of dollars in 
the form of four hundred cigarettes. 

It is a short hour's strenuous work, giv- 
ing hundreds and hundreds of poor cold 
soldiers a final cup of coffee in Paris, from 
the canteen truck which goes right to the 
platform of the train. And when the 
coffee and bread have gone, then comes the 
fun of giving away the cigarettes, going 
from coach to coach. 

This morning, in the midst of handing 
to French, Belgium, Senegalese, and Colo- 
nials, and using my limited French, which 
at the train always seems extensive, for the 
time is so limited, a little fellow said, in 
plain English, " Thank you for your coffee. 
I like your coffee." This last remark I 
promptly followed up with many English 
remarks, but he understood nothing, so I 
turned on my limited French and he was 
filled with replies, among them, *' That is 
all I know" (of course this In French). 
Before the train started I dashed down the 

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You Who Can Help 

platform hoping to see him again, and, sure 
enough, hanging out of the window he was, 
and he said in French, " I thought I might 
see you again." 

I gave him some cigarettes in the two 
hands he held out, saying, " These are 
from a friend in America," and as the train 
pulled out, he was back to his phrase in 
English, but this time it was, " Thank you 
for your cigarettes. I like your cigarettes." 

I love to go to the trains, although it is 
rather depressing. To-day there was n't 
time to do anything but get a hasty lunch in 
town before going to the Ambulance to 
pour tea. From the amount of tea and 
coffee I have poured to-day, I don't feel 
like seeing either for some time. 

Yet to go to the station and see hundreds 
and almost thousands off to the front, and 
turn around and go to a huge military hos- 
pital and see hundreds of human wrecks, 
makes the terribleness of this whole weigh 
upon you. 

Marlborough writes he is having a most 
interesting and instructive time at Fontaine- 
bleau, and with an open fire and burning 
wood he feels like a king. I am hoping 
he will bring a bundle of the wood back 
with him. If he does n't, the day E 's 

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You Who Can Help 

cases turn up at the Alcazar, I shall bring 
the cover home by hand to luncheon with 
me, build a fire, and have a real time. 
However, the cold seems to agree with us, 
for we all are in fine shape; but I feel that 
my style is cramped a bit, when I write, 
eat, and live in the petit salon, and when 
I go to bed put on everything but my hat 
and furs. I thought seriously of getting 
up and getting my muff the other night, my 
hands were so icy! 

To-day when the girls went on their 
daily walk in the Bois from school, they 
attempted to pick up the little tiny sticks 
to bring home, but Mollie said the gen- 
darme drove them off. 

To-night we are thrilled for we hear we 
can get the wood we ordered weeks ago 
by the last of this week. We shut the 
doors to-night in the petit salon and burned 
the two old Atlantic Monthlies you sent 
and found them quite hot stuff. It is the 
strangest sensation in the world not to be 
able to buy or get a stick of wood. We 
have coal for a few days. 

A thousand thanks to those who so gen- 
erously sent money for my relief work. 
Everybody is so good, and if I could only 
in some way give you any idea what a little 

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You Who Can Help 

cheer and personal help means to these 
poor souls, you would all feel repaid for 
the sacrifices you make in sending it. But 
I seem to get all the pleasure as well, for 
I have the pleasure of receiving the money 
and the keen joy of seeing all the pleasure 
it brings to them. 



[ 132 ] 



Paris, February 7, 19 17. 

We are all well and shall try to keep so, 
and shall all stay on dry land. So do not 
worry one little bit about us if there are 
long spells without letters; simply know 
that they are written and that lack of trans- 
portation Is the one reason why they will 
not arrive as usual. If there is anything 
we particularly want you to know we will 
cable. 

Last Sunday our military attache in 
London and some others lunched with us. 
After luncheon some people came to call, 
filled with the news that America had 
broken off diplomatic relations with Ger- 
many. Needless to say, it was thrilling 
and my luncheon guests deserted me for 
the Embassy. 

It is wonderful to see the American flag 
displayed with the French flag in many 
streets to-day. Just what all this will lead 
to no mortal can tell. I am not allowing 
myself to think of all the possibilities of 
war, although at times it seems pretty near. 

The latest economy is that all trams, the 
metro, etc., stop at ten o'clock at night, to 

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You Who Can Help 

save coal and electricity. This Tuesday 
and Wednesday were the first " no cake or 
pastry " days. On the fifteenth sugar 
tickets are issued. As Moll says, " What 's 
the use of issuing tickets when you can't 
get any sugar anyway? " 



[ 134 ] 



Paris, February 9, 19 17. 

To me this has been just like Christmas 
to-day, and much better, for what has come 
to-day for me and the poilus is better than 
any Christmas gift ever was. 

When I went to work, I was greeted by 
the good news that case 8136 with seven- 
teen army blankets had arrived for me. 
And before I left at noon case 8134 with 
seventeen more had arrived. Unfortu- 
nately, but perhaps you don't feel that way 
about it, there is a tremendous call for 
blankets in the hospitals at the front, and 
what I had planned, as I wrote Esther, to 
give them to Madame Courcille at the 
Gare du Nord, for more beds, — a blanket 
is a bed there, — does not seem so madly 
urgent as suffering hospitals to-night, but I 
am going to decide in the morning. 

I wanted to get my one single one off to 
a young boy in a German prison through 
his family. This I did, and then I called 
a taxi and brought one case home with 
me. After my lunch by myself, I opened 
the case, and with half of the cover I had 

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You Who Can Help 

an open fire in my petit salon, and purred; 
nothing ever was so wonderful ! 

I know the case should have been used 
to re-pack in, but " by heck," whatever that 
is, when there has n't been a sliver of wood 
in this house for three weeks, and no signs 
of any, every nick of wood on your cases 
is going to be used for home consumption 
by the Churchill family. 

I had a French lesson at four-thirty so 
the rest of the cover was sacrificed to make 
this room comfortable for dinner and to 
write in this evening. 

The blankets are perfect, and I shall 
keep two in the house, fearing Marlbor- 
ough may have need of them. And to- 
night I sent Sophie to the Embassy with 
the pouch mail, and she brought home no 
letters, but her arms full of packages! 
Books there were, a package of four muf- 
flers and two wristers, which are perfect, 
and a package of a sweater and socks for 
Moll. Moll and I were thrilled. We have 
planned to send the sleeveless sweater and 
scarf to the filleul. 

A scarf, wristers, and socks to Corporal 
Paul Peretti, who is in the Somme. He is 
a friend of Marlborough's. When Marl- 
borough was in Corsica he took a picture 

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You Who Can Help 

of a dear old lady whose sons were all In 
the war, and It came out well, so he sent 
her one. It reached her when her son Paul 
was home on " permission," so he wrote 
a most appreciative letter of thanks. Here 
In Paris, at the " Salon des Armees," they 
are exhibiting everything, passed by a com- 
mittee, which show the soldier's art. This 
Paul Peretti made rings and naplcin-rlngs, 
and on one he put a large M. C. monogram 
in honor of Marlborough. So of course 
we have been to see it, and we tried to buy 
it, but found he had asked to have it given 
to Marlborough after the exhibit closed. 

I have always intended to send him a 
package, but have n't, so now he will get 
the nice muffler, socks, and wristers. An- 
other muffler goes to a cute little Colonial 
whose picture I will send when I get his 
letter of thanks. The other scarf I shall 

save to send to the balloonist, M 's fil- 

leul. I am getting a little anxious about 
him for I should hear from him. I hope 
nothing has happened to him, just when he 
was beginning to have someone take care 
of him. And the pair of hospital socks I 
am going to wear on my own feet this 
night! So whoever knit those with the 
little red top and toe, please tell her that 

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You Who Can Help 

my appreciation is a hundredfold, and 
when I part with them, I shall feel that I 
am making a personal gift. 

You see what a wonderful day we have 
had, and crowned by an open fire I To- 
night I see in the papers that all big em- 
poriums are to close one day a week and 
all theaters are closed four days a week. 
The wash-lady has n't turned up for the 
clothes this week, and to-morrow being 
Saturday I guess she is not coming, — 
probably no coal and frozen water, poor 
thing. 



[ 138 ] 



Paris, February ii, 191 7. 

I took twenty dollars of my " fund " 
and sent some medical supplies to the Dis- 
pensary for women and children of the 
men at the front, which I wrote you about. 
I had had several letters from them, and 
had talked with one of the nurses, and their 
needs were pretty urgent, particularly with 
this cold weather and sickness, and some 
things were expensive for them to buy and 
hard to get. So I sent them some ninety 
per cent alcohol, which is hard to get and 
about two dollars a quart, ether, iodine, 
glycerine, vaseline, hypodermic syringes, 
and six good platine hypo-needles, aspirin, 
quinine, sulphate of soda, etc. 

I know that the gift was a needed one. 
The things were sent yesterday afternoon 
and if I hear from it in the morning, I will 
enclose the letter. The day I went there 
and took the towels I had bought with the 
money you sent, I knew I should n't be 
happy until I had done a little more for 
them to put them on their feet. Their 
work is so admirable, and without the 
glamor of working with the soldiers, yet 

[ 139 ] 



You Who Can Help 

being, Indirectly, for their families it Is the 
same. And all these children must grow 
up strong and husky if France is to have 
any future. 

It is still cold but with E 's case we 

have had a perfect day and toasted by the 
open fire, and there is still the bottom of 
the case and one side, and five or six more 
cases to come 1 Our outlook is of the best, 
and I feel like a multi-millionaire. 



[ 140 ] 



Paris, February 12, 191 7. 

Your box No. 8056 turned up to-day, 
with your note of December i Inside. The 
letter was sent in to me from the receiving 
department, and the box opened but not 
touched. As there were many things in 
it, besides the box itself, that I wanted, 
I let it stay all day, until I left about five- 
thirty, and brought it home with me on a 
taxi. The things are perfect, and could 
not be nicer, and I shall take real pride in 
giving them where I see the need. 

I can't tell you how nice it was to get 
your letter enclosed, and it did make me 
feel that the box was very personally pre- 
pared. Although I am filled with ideas for 
all these things, it is best not to tell you 
what I am going to do until I do it. Then 
you can patch the letters together and have 
a complete history of your wonderful gifts. 

The first hot-water bottle, with its nice 
warm cover, is reposing at Moll's feet this 
minute 1 About two weeks ago hers broke 
after she was well tucked in bed. 

Another one is going to repose at my 
feet, so if your conscience bothers you, 

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You Who Can Help 

kindly charge up my account with two hot- 
water bottles, but we could n't resist them. 
They are scarce, very poor and expensive, 
so two beautiful bags and covers went to 
a couple of Americans, Mrs. M. Churchill 
and daughter, who send you no end of sin- 
cere gratitude, and many thanks for the 
comfort of many nights to come. Some 
day I will try and get you a picture of them 
taken with their gift to show you their 
appreciation. 

Four hot-water bags and two rubber 
sheets to the Leyoden Dispensary. Twenty 
blankets went to-day to Hospital Benevole, 
163 i/;i5, Arcachon, Gironde, La Poupinere. 
It was a very urgent call, so I said I knew 
you would gladly meet it, and packed up 
twenty of your thirty-four which have ar- 
rived, and got them off to-night. Although 
I am only the " middle man," I can't tell 
you what it is to have something to give 
when the call from real suffering comes. 

I know I never can tell you what some 
of these hundreds of hospitals are like. I 
mean of course the temporary ones. They 
simply make the most and best with what 
they have, which many times is simply a 
big, dismal store-room. I went to one at 
Charenton Saturday afternoon, which was 
L 142 ] 



You Who Can Help 

almost beyond words. I had received let- 
ters asking if in any way I could procure 
for them a sterilizer for their instruments 
and compresses; also instruments. So I 
decided to go there and see for myself 
what they needed, and in some way try to 
get through the clearing-house what they 
needed. After motoring through Vin- 
cennes and the Bois de Vincennes, I ar- 
rived at this small hospital ; it had only fifty 
beds, in three dingy store-rooms ; blesses in 
two, and the malades in the other. 

What they needed was soap and water, 
and I felt that anything in the way of ap- 
paratus was simply something more for 
them to care for and keep clean. And the 
poor things looked as if they needed cheer- 
ing up as much as anything, so I am going 
to take surprise bags and cigarettes down 
to them on Washington's birthday. But the 
whole place is rather typical of the poorer 
places. 

The sleeveless sweater I am going to 
send to Paul Peretti, Corporal 229th Regi- 
ment, 13th Company. So when I send 
you his letter of thanks you will know who 
knit the sweater, for there was just one in 
the shipment. The sweater by mail went 
to Moll's filleul. 

[ 143 ] 



Paris, February 22, 191 7. 

To-day has been a wonderfully Interest- 
ing day. I started out on " delivery " early 
this morning, first by carrying an enormous 
laurel wreath to the Washington monu- 
ment in Place d'lena. Our ambassador 
and other notables were there and there 
were speeches. Then some of us went in 
a motor car to four different hospitals in 
Charenton, where we personally gave the 
men sacs suirprise, and told them that it 
was an American fete day. 

Hospital 2 on avenue de la Liberte is a 
fascinating-looking place in gray stone, on 
a hill, with a high gray wall all around 
it. Formerly it was a convent school. 
There were only about a hundred and 
eighty men there but most of them were 
grand blesses. They were getting along 
all right although it made your heart sick 
to see some of them. 

Hospitals 211 and 205 were both in- 
teresting, well run, and clean, and it was 
a pleasure to see the happiness the bags 
brought. Hospital 170 was the last one 
in Charenton; it was the one I wrote you 

[ 144 ] 



You Who Can Help 

about. The dirtiest place ever made, but 
I hope through the clearing-house to get 
them a sterilizer for their instruments, 
compresses, etc., and so kill a few of the 
germs which must be running riot there. 

Two of the men had been decorated 
there to-day, but there is something even 
more pathetic to see a Croix de Guerre 
pinned at the head of a man's bed, when he 
is lying there a physical wreck, than if there 
is nothing of the kind to make you realize 
more than you ordinarily do what he has 
sacrificed for France. 

After luncheon I went on a delivery to 
a big hospital of about four hundred beds 
on rue des Recollets, near the Gare de 
I'Est. 

Marlborough left this morning for the 
front; he will be out two weeks anyway. 
He has taken a sleeping-bag and all, and 
has gone out to live right with the artillery. 
It is a wonderful chance for him, and I am 
of course happy each time he gets a chance 
to do something worth while from a pro- 
fessional point of view. But this awful 
war has so many points of view, that I 
shall be relieved to get him home again. 

Albert Laurent, who wrote and thanked 
you for the scarf, is really pathetic. He is 

[ 145 ] 



You Who Can Help 

a boy of nineteen — my cook's nephew — 
and my other maid has taken him for her 
filleul. He has been all through the 
Somme, and his courage is beginning to 
break a little, but I hope when the weather 
is better he will cheer up a bit. 

I got a lot of things together for him 
when he went back, sent him to the cinema, 
with the maids, and tried to give him a 
little happiness. Before he left, I was glad 
to receive a box of shirts and towels; I 
promptly gave him one of the shirts, and 
it made him so happy, and an address in 
the pocket was a delight. 

Day before yesterday they said there 
was a package for me; I opened it and 

there was E 's accordion. Little did 

I think I should ever play her accordion 
in Paris ! I promptly took it out of the 
box and made many bum notes on it, but 
it gave the Alcazar a little gayety. Some- 
one came dashing downstairs to say that 
she knew a man who was pining for an 
accordion — so I hav^e sent it. 

The other day I went to an adorable 
little hospital on rue de Vaugirard where 
there are all " gassed " men. There are 
sixty-three there at present, and all are get- 
ting along so well, but great care from the 

[ 146 ] 



You Who Can Help 

cold air has to be taken, so they are pretty 
much shut in in their little wards. 

It is a little place run by the Sisters, with 
lots of small rooms accommodating eight 
or ten men on three floors. The men were 
all so happy and so nice and appreciative 
even of my French that I got rash with my 
cigarettes and they gave out before I got 
to the third floor. I am going again Tues- 
day to see them, and will start at the top I 

I took over some of my books and pic- 
tures to paste in, and it delighted them, 
and they told me to come again soon and 
bring some more. The Sisters asked me 
when I left if there was any way I could 
get handkerchiefs for them, for they were 
destitute. The A. F. F. W. was extremely 
low on handkerchiefs, so I took some of 
my " fund " and bought five dozen mili- 
tary French blue ones. 

On the cakeless and candyless days, of 
course, you feel as if you had to have some- 
thing sweet, so the other day I went to a 
grocery shop for a box of fancy crackers, 
thinking that they would answer the pur- 
pose. I found that not a cracker could 
they sell on cakeless days. A little jam on 
bread for tea fixed me finely. 

Monday the New York Herald was only 

[ 147 ] 



You Who Can Help 

a single sheet; this to save paper, and it 
is to be that way every Monday. We are 
getting along beautifully with light by 
being very, very careful. We find we can 
burn a light at night to write by as late 
as we want to, but of course there is never 
a light in the house excepting when you 
are right with it I 

You ask about our heat and light; I am 
thankful to say that the terribly cold 
weather is a thing of the past. The central 
heating plant in the apartment is still work- 
ing and now that it is not very cold, just 
rainy, that heat is enough. By enough, I 
mean that you can go to bed without really 
needing your muff. And with great effort 
on Clemence's part we can get a handful 
of coal every now and then for the range, 
so with this and our allowance of gas we 
get along all right for the cooking. 



[ 148 ] 



Paris, February 24, 191 7. 

It Is probably not necessary to tell you 
about the Hospital St. Nicholas, 66 rue 
Ernest Renan-Molineaux. This Is where 
Doctor Barthe de Sandfort Is doing his 
wonderful work with ambrine. The world 
knows the wonders which ambrine Is doing 
for these horrible burns from liquid fire, 
and I had heard through a doctor that they 
were In need of many things which would 
make their work easier if they had funds. 

Early this morning I motored out and 
found the hospital very clean and comfort- 
able, but as it Is simply a temporary hos- 
pital, and at one time a primary school, it 
was very simple and primitive compared 
to our modern ideas of a hospital. The 
doctor in charge of the service de I' ambrine 
was most cordial, and appreciated my In- 
terest In wishing to see something of this 
almost miraculous work which is being 
done. Although It was perfectly logical 
from his point of view to start at the 
operating-room where these poor souls are 
received, and end at the ward where they 
are well and happy. It was a little strenu- 

[ 149 ] 



You Who Can Help 

ous and things did not come very gradually 
from my point of view. 

The condition these poor fellows arrive 
in is indescribable; their appearance is far 
from human. As you know, ambrine is 
applied in the form of vapor, and after the 
first there is no more suffering. From the 
receiving-room I went into the operating- 
room where the treatment is given. I do 
not want to describe too vividly, but I can- 
not tell you the feeling it gave me to see 
what I did. There were men on the op- 
erating-table, perfectly conscious. It was 
hard to beheve that they were not suffer- 
ing. One man had the most ghastly intes- 
tinal shell-burn to which they were apply- 
ing a second application. I wondered how 
he could live, and he was lying there, as 
calm and peaceful as though nothing had 
happened. 

Another man was sitting up on the 
operating-table, watching the treatment to 
his frozen feet. The foot had more than 
half dropped away, although there were 
three or four little so-called toes on each 
foot. The doctor said, " Pardon, un mo- 
ment,^^ slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, 
took a little pair of scissors from the for- 
ceps of the nurse, who was apparently wait- 

[ 150 ] 



You Who Can Help 

ing for him, and snipped off all the little 
toes, while the man sat up gazing at what 
he once could call feet. The others I will 
not describe but I told you of these so 
that you could really know that after the 
first treatment there is absolutely no suffer- 
ing. I asked this doctor, as we came out 
into his office, what they were in need of, 
and he told me many things to make the 
place easier for their work. 

When I told him that I had a gift for 
them, he said it would be a pleasure for 
Doctor de Sandfort, the discoverer of am- 
brine, to receive the gift in person, and 
that he would go and get him. I found him 
one of the most fatherly Frenchmen in the 
world, and, having seen what he had dis- 
covered for humanity, I could hardly re- 
frain from greeting him In the true French 
fashion, — a kiss on one cheek and then on 
the other. He said that he had been work- 
ing on it for sixteen years, and although he 
did not know ivhy all these terrible burns 
healed so quickly, and all without a scar, 
or a mark of any kind, they just did, and 
that was sufficient. 

He has given the formula to the French 
government, but, after the war, the world 
can have It. I told him of my pleasure In 

[ 151 ] 



You Who Can Help 

meeting him and the debt of gratitude 
humanity owed him. I had the pleasure 
of giving him the money and he said, 
" Thank your friend for me from the bot- 
tom of my heart, as well as all the other 
Americans who have done so much to help 
my people." 

He said that he would like to have me 
see some special cases and thf-ir photo- 
graphs taken before treatment. One man, 
with his face pink and white like a baby's, 
had had all the skin burned from his face 
just one month, less two days, before and 
not one scar did he have. He said that he 
did not suffer a single thing after the first 
and that he loved to have it dressed each 
day. He took me to see another man, 
Fancon by name, whose picture I sent you; 
from the dates on the picture you will see 
what was accomplished in twenty days, and 
to-day his skin is as clear and perfect as 
though nothing had happened. 

Some time ago, I was happy to receive a 
gift of five dollars for my French soldiers. 
I have been tempted many times to part 
with it, but when Saturday last came, and 
I assisted in giving and arranging an Easter 
concert and supper for eighty-five men, the 
five dollars went a very long way. 

[ 152 ] 



^h^ 




E ° SI 



5 o a 



m 









P c u 

*- c 






S c S 



Ehi 



You Who Can Help 

We arranged the concert and Easter 
party at the supper hour at Mme. Destray's 
canteen, where I go one night a week to 
serve supper, — a canteen in which I am 
very much interested. The place, which or- 
dinarily is rather forlorn and dark, in a 
little room off a courtyard, on rue Luxem- 
bourg, was gay with French and American 
flags, side by side, both standing for right 
and humanity. 

Thanks to each one who has sent money 
for my " fund," the ordinary canteen sup- 
per was turned into a real party, with 
French pastries and fruit. Of course they 
are all most grateful and appreciative of 
the soup and vegetable stew, which they 
have each night. But they are like chil- 
dren, when they have something unex- 
pected and appealing, — their pleasure is 
so sincere. The men who can get papers 
to allow them to have their meals at this 
little place are either men on eight days' 
permission, who are from the invaded 
country, or men discharged from the hos- 
pitals who are not quite able physically to 
go back to the front and yet who have no 
family or friends in Paris. Most of the 
supplies are donated by the market-women 
of Paris, who, like everyone else, are doing 

[ 153 ] 



You Who Can Help 

their share towards giving these men, who 
are sacrificing their lives, what comforts 
they can. There are always some leaving 
each day for the front, and the men who 
left Sunday carried with them happy 
memories. The woolen socks I received I 
have given, each pair personally, to the 
men, and I wish it were possible to tell 
about the circumstances of each soldier. 

I have given them all to men who are 
still fighting for France and civilization, 
and not to men who have a certain amount 
of comfort in hospitals or who are con- 
valescing. The men In the cold, wet, 
snowy trenches needed them the most. The 
types I reached varied from the poor pollu 
from the invaded territory, who has no one 
to give him anything, or any family who 
even know where he Is, to a man with a 
title, who before the war possessed a beau- 
tiful chateau in Northern France but who 
now has his chateau only as a memory, be- 
cause everything in the world that he had 
has been taken by the Germans. He was 
mobilized as a chauffeur for a supply 
truck; he has experienced frightful ex- 
posure and Is now threatened with tuber- 
culosis. When I was asked If I had any 
warm socks for him, it was a great pleas- 

[ 154 ] 



You Who Can Help 

ure to be able to answer yes. But my 
pleasure was as nothing to the comfort he 
received from the warm things he needed 
so much these last desperately cold days, 
as he drove his supply truck to the front. 
I wish I could tell about each man, for 
to me they are all so individual, but they 
were all alike in their gratitude to the good 
American women who had remembered 
them and believed in the principles for 
which they were fighting. 



[ 155 ] 



Paris, March i, 191 7. 

You are quite right when you imagine 
that we are stirred up about the U. S. A. 
I just don't dare to think ahead. France 
is so thrilled, and Bordeaux busy enter- 
taining the Orleans and Rochester men. 

To-night Clemence's cousin came In 
from the front on his permission. You 
see they are all told it Is their last, for after 
a certain date the spring drive will be on, 
and there will be no permission for a 
long time. 

He Is In the Belgian army. Poor soul, 
he has a wife and little girl but he has n't 
heard a word, or been able to send them 
a word, since the war began. Two years 
and a half, — Is n't It awful? 

Yesterday I had such a perfect time 
over at my " gassed " hospital. I took 
over comfort bags which the A. F. F. W. 
gave me. There are about eighty there 
now so It was a regular Christmas in each 
ward! If you hear of anyone asking what 
to put In, — they adore harmonicas and 
puzzles, pipes and tobacco-pouches, and 
knives, aside from the strictly useful things. 

[ 156 ] 



You Who Can Help 

After they had taken out all their things 
and had a jolly time over them, I had to 
go around to each bed and let each one 
show me himself just what he got, make 
the ones who had harmonicas play and 
stick the little American flags up on the 
heads of the beds. Many times I had to 
tell them what they were for, and I even 
had to demonstrate what to do with chew- 



mg gum 



I had a perfect afternoon and as much 
fun as they had, but there were four of 
them who were on the verge of tears, for 
they wanted a pipe so badly and no pipe 
was there in their bags. I was so disap- 
pointed for them, but I took some of your 
relief money and bought them each a pipe 
and a package of tobacco, wrote them a 
note and sent the maid over with them this 
morning. In just such ways as this I love 
to give them pleasure by such little things 
which mean so much happiness for them. 
When I have the generosity of my good 
family and friends to draw on, I can do 
so much more than I could with just my 
own pocket-book. 



[ 157 ] 



Paris, March 4, 191 7. 

This looks very much like Inauguration 
Day to me, and it reminds me that four 
years ago we spent the day at our nice 
window and table at Harvey's. I was 
surprised and delighted to get a letter 
from Marlborough to-night, stampless and 
sector-postal-marked, as he said, " just like 
all your other poilus." He is having a 
wonderful experience, and is happy in mud 
up to his neck, with a gas-mask hanging on 
his belt, and a blue steel trench-helmet on 
his head, but I shall be more comfortable 
next week when it is an experience of the 
past. 

Last night, when I turned in around 
midnight, you could distinctly hear the 
cannon in the distance, but to-day I was 
told that that was very common when the 
wind was directly north, as it was last 
night. After one has seen results as I have, 
to hear cannonading even in the distance 
makes a pretty vivid mental picture. 

I have been thinking a lot to-day how I 
would love to drop in and have a good 
chat with you, and give you lots of good 

[ 158 ] 



You Who Can Help 

advice. Advice sounds rather flat, but 
since I have been here in Paris, and seen 
how conditions can change, a good long 
look into the future will be the wisest thing 
you all can do. When I came here every 
shop, market, and street vender had every- 
thing, and when people said, " I am buying 
this, that, and the other thing," it seemed 
too flat to me. I always laughed and said, 
" We will live on macaroni." And now I 
doubt if there is any to be had. I went 
into Ferrari's, the Italian shop down by the 
Opera, on my way home to-night, stood in 
line until I got discouraged, and then left. 

Potatoes are as scarce as hen's teeth; 
flour is getting scarce, and this morning's 
paper said that presently there would be 
bread cards. The bread is a light brown 
already, but to prevent waste of any kind 
they were to Issue cards soon. I trust that 
the allowance is liberal. The sugar allow- 
ance amounts to three lumps per person 
per day, for tea, coffee, and cooking! 

So my advice to you is, having land, to 
shove the ground full of seeds, for all kinds 
of vegetables and eating things, you can. 
I know you will say, " Who is going to 
look after them? " Of course much will 
have to be more or less neglected, but, if 

[ 159 ] 



You Who Can Help 

war comes to America, the same things you 
will experience, without doubt, and it is no 
joke, but a long thought ahead will take 
you over difficulties. And if I were you I 
would raise all the vegetables I could, and 
can and preserve every vegetable and fruit 
I had that I could n't eat. If war is de- 
clared I advise your first purchase to be 
Mason jars, before they go sky-high with 
everything else. You all will probably 
have a good laugh over this, but as it comes 
from one who as you know is not an alarm- 
ist, or under ordinary circumstances very 
fore-handed, you may feel that it is worthy 
of consideration. You will have every- 
thing for awhile, and it will seem as if you 
were going to have everything, but sud- 
denly you will find the railroads used for 
troops, supplies, etc., and you eat what you 
can buy around you, but when everybody 
is doing it, there is an end to many things. 
But if you have things to eat in your garden 
and in your store-closet, you are that much 
more comfortable. 



[ i6o ] 



Paris, March 6, 191 7. 

I sent things to-day to Hospital aux. 15, 
Clermont, Oise, from the contribution of 
the Andover Red Cross. It is a very in- 
teresting hospital, right behind the front. 
The infirmaire wrote that the hospital was 
just like a gulf, where the wounded flowed 
through by the thousands, and although 
the A. F. F. W. was able to send a big 
shipment, yours filled in where theirs ran 
short. I tried to tag each shirt with a little 
word, " Pour mon brave soldat,^^ etc. and 
an address, so that some day you may hear 
from it. The infirmaire wrote that they 
were so near the firing line that they could 
burn nothing but candles, so that writing 
was almost out of the question. 

I had a letter from Marlborough this 
morning, saying he was living in a dugout 
and was very thankful for the six feet of 
railroad iron, sandbags, etc., which were 
over him. He said that at midnight the 
night before his little hole in the hillside 
shook like a pasteboard house and there 
was a horrible crash right overhead. He 
thought of course that Hindenburg was 

[ i6i ] 



You Who Can Help 

after him, but discovered they were French 
guns protecting their Infantry. He Is hav- 
ing a wonderful time and one every artil- 
leryman would give a lot to have, and I 
am so happy for him, but it makes me so 
nervous to sit here and write, hearing the 
sound of the guns In the distance and know- 
ing that he is out there somewhere. 

I received a long and most cordial letter 
from Dr. Casseus, the Haytian doctor at 
the Leyoden Dispensary; he was most ap- 
preciative of all I had done for him by 
making his work easier and he said he was 
having an Interesting operation on a tumor 
at half past two to-day and would be hon- 
ored if I would and could accept his offer 
and assist at the operation. He assured 
me the patient would be completely ether- 
ized and the operation would not be very 
horrible. 

That without exception is the worst in- 
vitation I have ever received. I hastily 
wrote him a profuse note expressing my 
appreciation of his willingness to have me 
see him operate, but that I must decline as 
those things unfortunately affected me 
rather unpleasantly. If giving ether as a 
gift calls forth these invitations, I will 
never give another can! As one of the 
[ 162 ] 



You Who Can Help 

girls at work said, " How could one ever 
return an invitation like that! " 

To-morrow I am investigating a hospi- 
tal where I understand there are endless 
amputation cases and not half enough 
crutches, and if it proves to be so, I will go 
and buy some, thanks to you. I feel rather 
selfish having relief money in my hands 
so long, but I try to do the most with it. 
Anybody can give money here and there 
and it is naturally needed everywhere, but 
I wait until a particularly needy case is 
brought to me. 

Miss Dagmar told me to-day that she 
had been to one of the blind hospitals and 
they were still talking about the blind con- 
cert your money gave and said they never 
could forget how good the cakes and wine 
were. Months afterwards it is delightful 
to hear these things which assure you that 
your money was spent in the right direction. 

It is very touching to me to have so 
many of your friends in Andover willing 
to have me use my judgment in placing 
their generous gifts. Thank them all for 
me a thousand times ; I hope that they may 
never see their country suffering as poor 
France is. 

[ '63 ] 



Paris, March 14, 1917. 

Marlborough came back at midnight 
Saturday, looking quite like the magazine 
picture of the poilu, with his bag, bedding- 
roll, trench crooked stick, and all the mud 
he could bring out of Champagne. He 
had a wonderful trip, was present at, and 
experienced, his first real fight. The bat- 
tery he was with fired eighteen hundred 
rounds in one day, and the captain of the 
battery was wounded by a fragment of 
shell going through the calf of his leg. 
The army corps he was with fired thirty 
thousand rounds one day, so you see it 
was not a perfectly quiet day! 

Well, the grippe I thought I was going 
to have Monday did n't arrive, but I did 
stay away from all work, — the first day 
in just six months I had missed at the 
A. F. F. W. 

You are so wonderful to continue to 
get money for me, and if people ever have 
any suggestions as to type of relief work 
they want it used for, do tell me, for 
as I do all that kind of relief work per- 
sonally, and apart from funds or red tape, 
[ 164 ] 



You Who Can Help 

I can place It anywhere. But before I 
spend any of the precious money you have 
collected, I go personally and see for my- 
self, and then, if I can't get the needed 
things through the A. F. F. W. or clearing- 
house, I do things myself. 

The other day I wrote to you that I was 
getting disturbed about the lack of crutches 
in a little hospital, but I have been able to 
beg these, without buying them, which is 
a great relief. So my little hospital gets 
crutches, and I will have money for the 
next emergency. 



[ 165 ] 



Paris, March i6, 191 7. 

You probably read of our second Zeppe- 
lin alarm. I was enjoying a perfectly good 
night's sleep, when about four o'clock 
" bedlam " was let loose, the fire-engines, 
buglers, and, for the first time, sirens all 
over the city% as well. There was no ques- 
tion what it was; it was those Zeppelins 
again! Fortunately MoUie did not wake 
up. There was nothing to do but to close 
any steel shutters which were not closed, 
and wait for a bomb on the head! The 
air patrol got up very quickly, and over- 
head aeroplanes were so thick that they 
sounded like great flocks of ducks. No 
guns were fired in Paris, and about six 
o'clock the " danger past " signal was 
given. 

We were all happy to hear in the morn- 
ing that they had brought down one of 
the Zeppelins in Compiegne. I did n't 
have quite as many palpitations as I had 
the first time, but undergoing an air raid 
would never be a favorite pastime with me. 

Our days of peace with Germany seem 

[ 166 ] 



You Who Can Help 

numbered and it really looks as if war 
were inevitable now. 

To-morrow Marlborough goes to an ex- 
perimenting place, and, with a gas mask 
on, experiences all the different kinds of 
gas attacks, as well as learning the differ- 
ent kinds of masks. It is a most unpleas- 
ant thought, but an instructive experience. 



[ 167 ] 



Paris, March 30, 191 7. 

A week ago the news of the German 
retreat filled our hearts with joy, which 
grew each day, as we read of more vil- 
lages evacuated. This joy was turned to 
horror on Sunday, when Mme. Carrel 
came in from Compiegne and told us of 
conditions in the evacuated territory. 

She was in her hospital at Compiegne 
when the news of the German retreat from 
Noyon reached her. At once she ordered 
out her ambulance and filled it with what 
supplies she had, and started, and was in 
Noyon a little more than twenty-four hours 
after the last German had moved out. 
Most of the houses she found destroyed, 
and all the furniture had either been taken 
away or made useless. There was not one 
pane of glass in the town or a stitch of 
clothing or household utensil left of any 
kind. 

In the city of seven thousand inhabitants 
she found over twelve thousand, as they 
had crowded in from the surrounding vil- 
lages. Those who were in cellars gradu- 
ally came out and told tales of horror too 
[ 168 ] 




Mmf. Carrel 

"Mme. Carrel came in from Compicgne, and told us of condi- 
tions in the evacuated territory." 



You Who Can Help 

terrible to relate. Every girl between the 
ages of fourteen and thirty had been car- 
ried away by the Germans, and the younger 
women left are all about to become mothers 
of Boche babies. In the cellars many have 
died, and the mortality among the children 
has been terrific. Those who died were 
kept among the living for five days before 
they were allowed to be buried. 

In a little room in an orphan asylum, 
children were found in a condition that can 
scarcely be imagined. They had not been 
allowed to go out or wash, and had slept 
in their clothes, without mattresses, pil- 
lows, or coverings, since last December. 

The French civil population had not had 
any meat of any kind for seventeen months, 
and had had nothing but black bread and 
rice to eat. The French wounded in the 
hospitals had not been cared for, and they 
were skin and bones, with their open, in- 
fected wounds filled with vermin. 

The joy of seeing the men in blue was 
too pathetic for words. Most of them had 
no idea that they would not see their sol- 
diers in the famed red trousers, and when 
the French finally did come in, the people 
did not know them at first. 

These conditions are only some of what 

[ 169 ] 



You Who Can Help 

she found, but they are enough to make 
you realize the necessity of immediate 
action. 

I gave the hundred dollars the Boston 
Farmington Society sent me to the 
A. F. F. W. fund, for I knew they were 
to take immediate action, and, in twenty- 
four hours, four camions which had been 
requisitioned, started with food and cloth- 
ing. It was the first relief to leave Paris 
for the evacuated district. 



[ 170 ] 



Paris, April 2, 191 7. 

The other morning I was out on " de- 
livery," and when I came back to the Al- 
cazar I was told that Marcel, a poor blind 
man who was here at your concert, had 
been to see me. It seems that he has been 
quite ill all winter, and they had been able 
to have him transferred to a hospital in 
Nice, where he could get out more, the 
weather being so much better there. He 
told the girl who did see him and talk with 
him that he did n't want to go away with- 
out seeing me, and telling me that if it 
had n't been for the new grasp he got on 
himself and life, he never would have 
wanted to live through his illness this win- 
ter. But the old joy and pleasure of being 
alive had come back to him with such force, 
the afternoon he was here at your concert, 
he had thought of nothing else all the time 
he was ill. And he wanted to tell me this 
before he went away ! 

To-day I took one hundred blankets to 
the Gare du Nord to the canteen for the 
women and children who are coming in 
from the evacuated territory. There were 

[ 171 ] 



You Who Can Help 

only about fifty there this morning, mostly 
women and children but a few very old 
men. They were pathetic. They had not 
heard anything from their families or 
friends since the war began. But they 
were cheerful in that they always said, " I 
don't know where my husband is, for I 
have n't heard of him since the war began, 
but I know he is the trenches fighting for 
France." They never said or intimated 
that he might have been killed. They are 
a wonderful people and an example to the 
world in hopefulness, courage, and cheer- 
fulness. 

I was so glad to see the little children 
looking so well and almost fat, and the 
women were in much better condition than 
I imagined, but of course their faces 
showed what they had been through. At 
the canteen they are fed, and given a place 
to lay their heads at night, and if they 
have friends whom they can find or any- 
one who will promise to look after them, 
they can go to them. Otherwise the Gov- 
ernment sends them to Brittany, and 
they are boarded by the Government 
in the poor families there. The Govern- 
ment has to care for them, but by this 
arrangement the poor in Brittany are 

[ 172 ] 



You Who Can Help 

helped as well, and it seems an excellent 
arrangement. 

Yesterday morning, it being Mollie's 
vacation, I took her to the Gare du Nord 
to see a train off, and she loved it. I served 
the coffee and she gave them sandwiches, 
and then we both gave them cigarettes. 

To-night I took over two hundred more 
cigarettes to Mme. Destray's canteen, 
where I go to serve supper Tuesday 
nights. There were about sixty-five there, 
and among them I found a nice little Eng- 
lishman in the Foreign Legion. He had 
been in Paris four months, most of the 
time in a hospital recovering from wounds. 
He came up to me after supper to talk, 
and to shake hands and say good-bye, for 
he was leaving for the front to-morrow. 

A poor little French Colonial came to 
me, and wanted to know if I could get him 
some shoes and socks before he went back 
to the front on Friday. I am going to 
send him to a place where they will give 
him shoes, and he is coming to the Alcazar 
to-morrow morning to receive two pairs 
of your socks and a knitted scarf. He was 
just like a child when I told him I would 
give him these things, he was so happy. 
All warm things are still a blessing here, 

[ 173 ] 



You Who Can Help 

for It is still cold, and each day for a week 
it has snowed hard some time during the 
day, and here it is April! 

To-day I have been buying clothing for 
the A. F. F. W. to be sent to the evacuated 
country. I went out with five thousand 
francs and purchased one hundred women's 
dresses, shawls, children's dresses, under- 
clothes, boys' suits, towels, handkerchiefs, 
hair-pins, etc. 



[ 174 ] 



Paris, April 9, 19 17. 

France Is jubilant over her new Ally. 
The good old Stars and Stripes are all over 
the place and you have no idea how good 
it looks. Marlborough is working day and 
night. Last night, although we went to 
the same dinner, he arrived after I did, 
and left for the office the minute dinner 
was over, and worked until after midnight. 
Just what or where he will do or be we 
have no more Idea than you have. 

I feel perfectly bewildered but shall 
probably come out of my fog one of these 
days. I just keep on at my work, and try 
not to worry about all the things that might 
happen. Naturally we are all wondering 
what America is going to do, — whether 
she will send any troops over here. Specu- 
lating about It does n't help a bit; the only 
thing to do is to wait and see. 

Moll is still having vacation, and having 
a beautiful time with an engagement every 
day. This afternoon she is playing tennis 
at the St. Didier Club, with tea at the 

[ 175 ] 



You Who Can Help 

France and Choisel Hotel afterwards. I 
call her some sport, but you have no idea 
what a joy and relief it is to have someone 
about who is just having a good time. 



[ 176 ] 



Paris, April 13, 19 17. 

I can't tell you how sorry I was that I 
could n't write a letter in time to get off in 
the mail to-day, but I simply did n't have 
a chance to sit down and write. My work 
has been changed a bit, as the A. F. F. W. 
are starting relief of the evacuated dis- 
tricts, on rather a large scale, and I have 
been made purchaser or buyer, whichever 
you want to call it, — I have forgotten 
what it is called on paper. Although it is 
not quite like being buyer for Paquin's it 
is no child's play. 

There is nothing that an infant, child, 
man, or woman wears or has to use that I 
do not have to purchase, — and by the hun- 
dreds. I have to buy them all in French, 
and aside from the language, the French 
have no idea of hustle and business 
methods. It takes me hours to get the 
proper receipts, etc., to give to the 
treasurer. 

They have turned over one section in 
the Alcazar to me, and I have to arrange 
a shop complete there, so that they can 
work from there filling demands, as they 

[ 177 ] 



You Who Can Help 

come In. At the same time we have opened 
a " branch store," or vestiaire, at the Gare 
du Nord, where the refugees are fitted out 
as they come in on the trains. As I had 
all the buying, planning what should be 
bought, etc., and opening of that place, 
I have been nearly crazy. 

Many cases of old clothing have been 
received for that work, and before ten in 
the morning when that vestiaire is opened, 
I have had to go down there and take an 
inventory of all the articles, and see what 
sizes of things are getting low. From there 
I go to to my Alcazar store and do all the 
routine paper work, and attend to the 
needs there; then off buying all day, and, 
when I finish, back to the Alcazar to put 
purchases of the day in place there, get 
things for the Gare du Nord listed, and 
put in big hampers to be taken the next 
morning. 

As a result I have n't had one minute, 
but when I get it on its feet it will not be 
so hectic. The vestiaire at the Gare is 
wonderfully interesting; yesterday when I 
was working there alone — it is in a little 
room in the cellar, but with a nice electric 
light — the gendarme came in and said a 
family of seven had arrived from Rheims. 

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You Who Can Help 

As they were to be sent by train to Brit- 
tany before the hour for the vestiaire to 
open, could I fit them out? 

So from grandmother to a one-month 
baby, I fitted them out with things they 
needed. As you know Rheims is being 
heavily bombarded, and they left without 
one thing excepting what they had on their 
backs. Their tales were hideous of the 
terrific bombardment of the city, every- 
thing falling and in flames, and people es- 
caping with their lives and nothing more. 
One man, and a dear, said he and his 
family had been taken by the French sol- 
diers to live in their abri for the past 
three days, and when word came that all 
civilians must leave, he told of dashing 
with his family of seven from one street 
to another, and from one apparent shelter 
to another, wondering if all could be saved 
from the shot and shell of the terrific bom- 
bardment which was going on. They all 
got out safely, but they looked pretty cold 
and forlorn as they sat lined up on a bench 
in that dark cellar room, waiting for me 
to fit them out in turn. But they seemed 
to me more dazed than discouraged. 

One man you would have adored, — a 
man of about sixty, I should say, with his 

[ 179 ] 



You Who Can Help 

well-cared-for trowel in his hand, beaming, 
— for he was a gardener by trade, — be- 
cause he had saved his pet trowel, which 
he hoped to use when he got to Brittany, 
where the Government were sending him. 
Some of my " fund " purchased a complete 
corduroy suit for him. His comfort and 
happiness were complete; it will be a suit 
he can wear the rest of his life, and do all 
the gardening he wants to in. He was in 
desperate need of it, and I was so happy 
to think that I had the money which I 
could use to start him in life again, at least 
warm and comfortable. The dear old 
thing sat there in the canteen while I went 
up town and bought the suit and a flannel 
shirt, and brought them back to him. 
However such little things on the side are 
veiy time-consuming, and days simply fly 
by, with more things piling up to do all 
the time. 

Those peaceful days in Oklahoma seem 
a thousand years ago, and I am afraid it 
will be many years before we know the fun 
and peace of those army post days. Now 
I can only be thankful that Marlborough 
Is still here in Paris with me. Since war 
has been declared he has left the house 
about seven in the morning, and returns 
[ i8o ] 



You Who Can Help 

about midnight or after. But occasionally 
I have luncheon with him, when we talk 
over things that are happening. 

I feel as if I had written very little of 
our ideas and plans since war was declared. 
But our ideas are not worth anything to 
anyone else and the little we know about 
things in general is nothing we can write 
about. Yet you may be sure that, if you 
hear nothing, we are simply sitting in 
Paris, busy and well; we shall keep you in- 
formed if any change comes for us. There 
are so many possibilities I do not dare to 
think of one. 

If this letter is a little dull it is because 
I have overdone eating pastries and cakes; 
this is to be the last day the law allows 
either to be made in Paris, so I have eaten 
for months to come! 

Next week one meatless day starts, and 
after May first no meat on Thursday and 
Friday. But all these things are no real 
hardship; the trying effect is that it makes 
crackers, etc., hard to buy and frightfully 
expensive. And meatless days will put 
vegetables and eggs up and, of course, fish, 
if there is such a thing as its getting any 
higher. 

If I had to do all the marketing I should 

[ i8i ] 



You Who Can Help 

probably lose my mind; as It is Clemence 
has all that trouble and gets what she 
can, and we are grateful for whatever she 
gets, and everything she cooks always 
tastes delicious, so why worry about things 
we can't have? There is always the same 
answer, " C'est la guerre!''' However, we 
love to sit and think of all the things we 
are going to have when we get back to 
America. Moll still has an ice-cream soda 
uppermost in her mind, and now she thinks 
that when she does go home she will ask 
someone to bring one to* the boat for her I 
Marlborough has decided not to eat any- 
thing after landing until he gets to The 
Maples, and has a breakfast of tripe and 
baked potatoes, and both without any limit 
as to quantity, while I am prepared to 
founder on hot rolls ! 

It is still cold here, but for a day or 
two has n't snowed, but it is always busy 
raining. We are all very well, and the 
house most comfortable, for the central 
heating is still going on. 

Mollie is back in school, using all her 
spare time in playing tennis at the St. Didier 
Club, and is tennis mad. 



[ 182 ] 



Paris, April 22, 1917. 

I have been almost over my depth in 
work the past week, and have had to give 
up everything else, for I have been " on 
the job " from nine o'clock until six, and 
often it has been seven before I have left 
the Alcazar. Organizing, buying, and ar- 
ranging two stock-rooms, one at the Al- 
cazar and one at the Gare du Nord, has 
taken every bit of my gray matter 1 The 
responsibility of having all the money as 
well as the work turned over to me, to 
make good or to fail, has been no trifle. 
I am given a free hand, with no one to 
consult on the subject of buying or deciding 
as to needs, which, although probably 
easier in the end is, at first a tremendous 
responsibility. Now that I have both 
" stores " running, I feel sure that there 
can be no serious hitches. 

The Gare du Nord is cared for by two 
girls each day, and I simply have the buy- 
ing, and the daily task of keeping that 
place stocked, with the records to keep of 
what I have sent there. I have my desk 
and " department store " on the outside 

[ "83 ] 



You Who Can Help 

gallery of the Alcazar, next to the Am- 
bassadeurs. I am quite proud of it, and 
if there is ever a pleasant day I will take 
a picture of it. Here I reign alone, inter- 
view merchants, and keep my records and 
my stock. And I have done everything so 
far myself, bought the goods, made and 
arranged my store out of packing-boxes, 
and have almost reached the point of sit- 
ting down, putting my heels on my desk 
and admiring it. 

I have the Boston camion at my dis- 
posal, with nice Miss D as chauffeur, 

so I do not have to dash around Paris 
stores and commission houses on foot. 
This is quite a change from my previous 
work for the A. F. F. W., for this carries 
a big money responsibility, and is not plain 
physical labor. I like it a lot however, 
and when it gets warmer it will be a joy 
being out all the time. At present I wear 
sweaters, gloves, etc., to keep warm, — I 
mean partially warm; I have forgotten 
what it is to be really warm. 

So although it has been a long day, and 
I know I have to be at the Alcazar at eight- 
thirty in the morning, I do not feel tired 
in the least. Consequently you can see that 
you must not waste any sympathy on me. 

[ 184 ] 



You Who Can Help 

Work like everything else is a habit, and 
it is just as easy now to work all day as it 
used to be to dance all night. However, 
what I should like is peace, and a few 
nights of dancing and frivolity, but things 
do not look as if I should have it in a 
hurry. 



[ 185 ] 



Paris, April 29, 191 7. 

I think I last wrote on Monday. On 
Tuesday afternoon about four o'clock it 
was sprung on me that I was to leave 
Thursday morning at dawn, by camion, for 
Complegne, the camion to be filled with 
supplies to be sent on to evacuated vil- 
lages. I asked for the list of articles they 
wished taken and was told that that was 
for me to do, to make a list, as well as to 
purchase everything. As I did n't wish to 
deplete my store at the Alcazar, I hopped 
into the motor I have at my disposal and 
made a tour of the wholesale houses, etc. 
As everything closes at six o'clock my time 
was short. 

Wednesday I bought all the things, 
packed them in sacks, and, when I finished 
about seven that night, ever^^body had left, 

and Dorothy A and I had to load the 

camion! It was so almost impossible to do 
that it was killingly funny, and we laughed 
ourselves almost sick over it. But we man- 
aged to get everything on, — nine big sacks 
of clothing we could barely move, two 
crates of macaroni, two big wooden boxes 

[ 186 ] 



You Who CAxN Help 

of bouillon cubes sent from America, and 
two big basket crates of lemons. And we 
had clothing complete for sixty women, 
sixty girls, forty boys, twenty-five men, and 
a dozen babies. 

We left the Place de la Concorde at 
eight o'clock. I had on a blue flannel shirt 
just like a poilu, sweater, suit, and Marl- 
borough's polo coat, so you can see it is 
not very springlike yet. 

All our red-tape papers were made out 
to take a certain route, and the sentries 
along the way, who examined the papers, 
saw to it that we took no other. We went 
up through Chantilly, which is a heavenly 
spot; you probably went to the races there ! 
All I did was to go through on a camion! 

Then we went through Senlis, which the 
Germans had for eight days early in the 
war. Some fighting took place there, and 
some of the streets are nothing but ruins. 

We arrived at Compiegne about noon. 
At two o'clock we went to Madame Carrel's 
hospital, which in other days was " Hotel 
du Rond Royal." It is delightful, and de- 
lightfully situated, and Madame Carrel is 
charming. I never saw anyone so filled 
with energy; you feel that she could do 
anything. She took us all over the hos- 

[ 187 ] 



You Who Can Help 

pital, where we dispensed cigarettes. We 
had thirty-five comfort bags which we gave 
in the wards where she considered they 
were suffering most. One man she found 
in a hospital when she first went into 
Noyon, and his condition was almost 
unbelievable. The combination of his 
wounds, loss of blood, lack of care, and 
lack of nourishment is too dreadful. 

We left our load with Madame Carrel 
to be distributed by her in the evacuated 
villages the next day. We started back 
at half-past four and were in Paris before 
eight o'clock. 

Three more cases from the Andover 
Red Cross were at the Alcazar on my re- 
turn; it is fine to have all these supplies 
now coming in, for now the offensive is 
started the wounded are piling in again. 
It is all too terrible 1 



[ i88 ] 



Paris, May 6, 191 7. 

I bless the Andover Red Cross for the 
three cases I unpacked to-day, with all the 
nice pajamas, pillows, fracture pillows, etc., 
and to have this personal supply just as the 
wounded are pouring into Paris again is 
wonderful. Of course the French are 
going forward, but not without frightful 
losses. The English are doing wonder- 
fully well, and although their losses may 
be as great, their wounded do not come 
this way. 

This work is fascinating beyond words, 
and you can do so much that the horrors 
are not depressing, where they would be 
if you had to sit by and see and do nothing 
but think about them. 

This past week I had a pathetic letter 
from Hospital 38, Poissy (Seine et Oise) 
asking for chaise-longues, so that they 
could get their convalescents out in the 
garden these sunny days; the men begged 
to be taken out, and yet were not able to 
sit up. So I took some of my " fund " 
money, and the chairs will be sent out on 
Tuesday. 

[ 189 ] 



Paris, May 15, 191 7. 

Each day I fear that I shall hear some- 
thing has come up to cause Marlborough 
to leave Paris f or " Somewhere in France " ; 
but I have decided that there is enough 
anxiety in uncertainties without borrowing 
trouble. And the wonderful Frenchwomen 
are a lesson to the world. 

Do not worry one bit about my over- 
doing. I am very fit, and the more you 
do the more you want to do, and you get 
absolutely absorbed. But work is one's 
salvation. To-day, for instance, I worked 
from nine-thirty until six, with about an 
hour and a half out for luncheon, which I 
had with Marlborough. At six I went to 
my canteen and served supper to sixty-six 
men, came home and had dinner with 
Mollie at eight, and all the evening I have 
been working over my shipping lists of 
things which have to go out to-morrow 
morning at eight-thirty to Noyon. As 
usual Marlborough is at the office, but as 
it is about midnight he will be in shortly. 

[ 190 ] 



Paris, May 21, 19 17. 

We were delighted and so happy to get 
letters from you all this week, and I wish 
I could tell you what a joy letters are; I 
read them over and over, whenever I have 
a little spare time. 

Another case from Andover Red Cross, 
with the cut-out pictures, scrap-books, pa- 
jamas, etc., arrived to-day, and I was 
delighted. I have just promised Mme. 
Lyeoty, wife of the general, many supplies 
for one of the Hopitals des Invalides. 
where all the paralyzed patients are. They 
are in need of everything, and I knew the 
things from Andover would be a joy to 
them. Everything you have sent has been 
perfect, and could n't have been better. 

Do not worry about my needing a vaca- 
tion ; I would n't know what to do with 
one if I saw it. One works from force of 
habit here, and there is so much to be done, 
you do not become worn out trying to see 
it finished; that is impossible, so you just 
keep at it steadily. 

I try not to get too tired, for that is 
stupid; it is not up to any of us to ruin our 

[ 191 ] 



You Who Can Help 

health, to say nothing of our dispositions. 
If you are tired and nervous you are hardly 
a person to bring cheer to the suffering and 
forlorn. Of course I get interested and 
often do more than is wise for one's health, 
but I never mean to, for there is too much 
ahead to be faced with anything but the 
best of health. 

Paris is lovely now, with all the shrubs 
in flower, and all the trees wonderful, and 
the weather just comfortable. And I have 

every inch of every box E has sent 

stored here in the house, so when the cold 
days come we shall have more than our 
imaginations to keep us warm. 

I am particularly happy in having been 
told yesterday to go and get all my papers 
to be sent up to Noyon. I am naturally 
delighted; the chance is worth all the hard 
work I have put in on refugee relief. I 
expect to be back the next day, but this is 
the real chance I have been longing for. 



[ 192 ] 



Paris, June i, 191 7. 

I brought this paper to work with me this 
morning, planning to take the noon hour to 
write to you, rather than bother with lunch. 
But Marlborough appeared and would n't 
allow it, so I have had a nice luncheon with 
him, and have but a few minutes before 
everybody returns to work. 

I have so much to write about it is tan- 
talizing, but I won't spoil my trip by giving 
you a poor idea of it. I will simply say 
that I was out at the front three days, and 
never in my life did I even ever dream I 
should be allowed such privileges. I have 
been four kilometers from St. Quentin, 
where shells were bursting, with a geyser 
of dirt thrown into the air. And I was 
told by many French officers that I could 
count the women on less than one hand 
who have ever had that chance. To-day 
forty-five thousand Germans hold St. Quen- 
tin 1 I was so near I felt I could all but 
see the color of their eyes I It was beyond 
any words 1 I will write you about it more 
fully soon. 

But in a general way I will tell you the 

[ 193 ] 



You Who Can Help 

places I went to, so you can see on the map : 
Compiegne, Noyon, Tracy le Val, Tracy 
le Mont, VIc-sur-Aisne, Soissons (here the 
bombarding cracked louder than any Fort 
Sill target practice!). Chateau le Coucy 
(wonderful), Epagny, Nouvron, Bleran- 
court. Cuts, Chauny (terrible), Bois-de- 
I'Abbe (Eitel Friedrich Tower), Seran- 
court, Ham, Guiscard; my nearest spot to 
St. Quentin was Roupy. This will give 
you work enough to find on a map until my 
next letter arrives telling about it. 

I have been in French trenches and in 
evacuated German trenches, where I was 
tempted to bring home mahogany tables, 
gilt frames, etc., but contented myself with 
a few military souvenirs. 

Marlborough and Mollie got along per- 
fectly during my trip to the front, and I 
was fortunate in being able to send Marl- 
borough a message through Army H. Q. 
at Compiegne, that I had a wonderful 
chance to be out three days, and not to ex- 
pect me in until Sunday night, when I 
turned up about twelve. 

Last night was a perfect Gare du Nord 
party. There were three hundred poilus, 
and about twelve Marlborough came for 
me, and they all were so excited. The 

[ 194 ] 







Ruins of thk "Mairik'' at Chau 



You Who Can Help 

Frenchman running It said many compli- 
mentary words, and the piano struck up 
the 7iational zir{?) Yankee Doodle/ And 
the men all said, " Five I'Amerique " and 
" Mon Capitainey 

When I came in Sunday I was thrilled 

and too happy for words to find E 's 

wonderful box of candy, as fresh as it was 
the day it was made, and the five-pound 
box of sugar. I have never seen so much 
sugar I 



[ 195 ] 



Junes, 1917- 

I can never do justice to the wonderful 
experience I have had. As you know since 
the Germans began evacuating some of the 
French towns a few weeks ago, I have been 
busy day and night planning and executing 
the relief work which the A. F. F. W. were 
able to do, with money sent especially for 
that purpose. 

It was finally decided that we could do 
more direct work by establishing a base 
at Noyon. So I packed up the wonderful 
" department store " I had arranged at the 
Alcazar, and everything was taken to 
Noyon. Two days after the big trucks 
with the cases left, Dr. Eleanor Kilham, 
Miss Brent, and Dorothy Arnold (chauf- 
feur) planned to go to Noyon to stay, 
doing the work from there. As this was 
my department of work I was fortunate 
in being allowed to take the trip with them, 
with Ruth Casparis, head of the motor 
service, to drive me and bring me back. 
I was as delighted as a child over her first 
party at the prospect of going. 

The afternoon before I left Colonel and 

[ 196 ] 



You Who Can Help 

Mrs. Collardet had tea with us, and I told 
them of the wonderful trip before me. 
Colonel Collardet was leaving the next day 
for America, having been made assistant 
military attache to Washington; until now 

he has been chief-of-staff of the army. 

He promptly said, " You are going up into 
my country; I will give you a little note to 
Colonel Destekeer, the present chief-of- 
staff, with headquarters at Vic-sur-Aisne; 
do present it, for I know he will do all he 
can for you." Fortunately I had Vic-sur- 
Aisne on my pass, so I treasured up the 
little note. 

At eight o'clock Friday morning we 
started in two cars, the camion and the 
Buick. It was a glorious morning and our 
spirits were high. We motored to Com- 
piegne through Chantilly and Senlis, and 
Chantilly was just as enchanting as it was 
when I motored through a few weeks ago, 
only the forests were all carpeted with 
lilies-of-the-valley. 

Our road to Noyon led through Bailly, 
and before we reached that place we were 
in the midst of everything that pertained 
to war. 

The world seemed nothing but trenches 
and barbed wire, and wonderful abri, 

[ 197 ] 



You Who Can Help 

and miles of little narrow-gauged railroad 
for ammunition transportation. Here we 
were in lines the Germans held for two 
years and a half and had left but a few 
weeks ago. And how comfortable they had 
made themselves ! My inclination was to 
go into every trench and abri, but I had 
to satisfy myself with a few, and we were 
warned to be very careful in the German 
trenches, for they have filled them full of 
traps, — that is if you picked up some- 
thing, or tripped over a wire, it might start 
things, and the whole trench would blow 
up. There have been some horrible acci- 
dents of this kind. 

In the woods I went into one wonderful 
abri, with a beautiful carved lion over the 
door, a wonderful half of a round mahog- 
any table, big chairs, and big gilt frames 
minus the glass. I tried to find this same 
abri the next day when Miss Casparis and 
I were alone, for I wanted to bring home 
the table, but we could not locate it. 

We passed one German cemetery, well 
laid out, the stonesbeautifully carved; many 
graves bore date of but a iew weeks ago. 

Bailly and every small town are just 
wrecks, — every building down, and not 
one sign of life. 
[ 198 ] 




Here we wkrk in lines the Germans held for two 
years and a half and had left but 
a few week.s ago " 



You Who Can Help 

We arrived in Noyon about two o'clock, 
and in this large place I should say one- 
fourth of the buildings are standing; when 
I say standing, I do not mean with roofs 
on and window-glass, but the walls stand- 
ing. In the Place de la Ville, where the 
Mairie (town hall) stands, most of the 
buildings are standing. And over the door 
of the Mairie " Old Glory " was flying. A 
store in this Place is what the French gov- 
ernment has turned over for our ware- 
house. We deposited our things there, and 
some went to find a place to leave the cars, 
while others went for permits to live in the 
town. I went to find a woman to clean 
and cook for them, for they planned to live 
over the store. 

I wandered down one street, and into 
what was at one time a cafe, and found a 
woman trying to start it up again. I sat 
down and talked with her, and asked her 
if she knew of anyone who could help these 
Americans; she seemed to think there was 
no one. I asked her if she had a stove, 
and whether, if they brought her the food, 
she would cook it there for them. Not in 
a discouraged way at all, but only curious, 
she said, "What could I cook?" I was 
very prompt with my answer, " Vege- 

[ 199 ] 



You Who Can Help 

tables." " There are n't any vegetables," 
she said. I was not stupid enough to think 
she could find meat, so I said, " Eggs, 
then." " Ohl There are no hens here." 
So at once the question of having a cook 
or a stove seemed solved, — both were 
superfluous. 

I wandered farther and found a woman 
about to open the hotel. The hotel had 
not all its roof on, and the furniture had 
all been removed by the Germans, but she 
was sure if the Americans could bring their 
furniture and linen she could make them 
comfortable. It looked to me like their 
making themselves comfortable. Stores 
with canned things were opening up, and 
with a can-opener she was going to be able 
to give them something to eat. But she 
could not get any bread for them until they 
had their bread cards, so she could not be 
ready for them until the following day. 
The sadness and terribleness of Noyon was 
relieved by these humorous little touches. 

How can these poor people begin to live 
again, with all their sorrows and privations 
in these masses of ruins? 

We all motored back to Compiegne for 
the night, going back by Tracy le Val and 
Carleport. Such desolation! The villages 

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You Who Can Help 

stand out like ghosts, and there Is so much 
destruction nothing seems real. After a 
good night's sleep, we started out about 
nine in the morning for Noyon again, Miss 
Casparis and I helped them straighten out 
things and left about noon. Then we went 
by ourselves to Vic-sur-Aisne to find the 
headquarters of the army, and pre- 
sent my note from Colonel Collardet. 

The road from Noyon to Vic-sur-Aisne 
by Carleport is over a terrible stretch of 
land by way of desolation. Every village 
is practically razed to the ground, and only 
occasionally is there any village to be seen. 
The whole world seems a maze of trenches 
and barbed wire, the trees just trunks, 
which stand shattered. There is no vege- 
tation; it all looks like a desert of deso- 
lation. 

Yet here at one point the German and 
French trenches were but about forty-five 
yards apart for two years. What tales of 
horror that forty-five yards of " No Man's 
Land " could telll The whole place is a 
sea of barbed wire; one could not believe 
there was so much wire in the world. We 
stopped on this road and went into many 
of the trenches, where I couldn't resist 
picking up a few little souvenirs. I could 

[ 201 ] 



You Who Can Help 

not but think of the souvenir hunters and 
Cook's tourists in years to come, and how 
a few things which were real would seem 
then. Yet with everything there and tons 
of everything, souvenirs did not seem very 
precious. 

We found this stretch of road so 
crowded with interest it was hard to press 
on towards Vic-sur-Aisne. However, we 

arrived at Army Headquarters about 

two o'clock, and found them in a beautiful 
chateau. With certain formalities we were 
taken into the colonel's office, and greeted 
most cordially. He was delighted to see 
any friend of Colonel Collardet's. We 
told him our mission in the zone of the 
army was in view of relief work. He at 
once said, " What can I do for you? " So 
we told him how far our passes allowed 
us to go. But that was not the question; 
it was now where we would like to go, and 
how many days we had. It was Saturday 
noon, and although we had intended to go 
back to Paris that night, I knew that if he 
offered something worth while we did not 
have to get back to " work " until Monday 
morning. 

To be facetious I said, " Colonel, my 
one desire is to get as near St. Quentin as 

[ 202 ] 




"No Man's Land" betwukn Noyon and 

ViC-SUR-AlSNE 

"The whole world seems a maze of trenches and barbed wire, 
the trees just trunks, which stand shattered. There is no vege- 
tation; it all looks like a desert of desolation." See page 20I. 



You Who Can Help 

possible, and I should also like to go to 
Soissons." 

He walked over to his map on the wall 
and said, " Bon, you can go to Soissons 
this afternoon." 

Miss Casparis in a half apologetic voice 
said, " Could we go to Le Chateau 
Coucy?" 

'* Certainly, if they are not shelling there 
this afternoon." 

From then on things began to look and 
feel very thrilling. So after planning out 
two days for us he said he would get our 
permits and send an officer of his staff with 
us. He came back with the papers, and 
the information that the general of the 

army would like to be presented. 

His office was in a wonderful room in the 
chateau, and the whole thing seemed like 
a drama on the stage. 

Soon with our wonderful permit and 
nice French officer we were on our way 
to Soissons. 

That place is pathetic, shelled from one 
end of the town to the other, the wonderful 
French cathedral more than half in ruins, 
most of the glass gone, and all the stone 
arches and columns shattered and fallen. 
The most pathetic part is that one end of 

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You Who Can Help 

a small nave is still being used, although 
sand-bags are piled high at the end, and 
tons of stone and masonry lie in heaps on 
the floor. We had been there but a short 
time when there came the crack ! crash 1 1 of 
the big guns, and the few French soldiers 
about said, " Ah, the bombardment has 
begun." By the sound I thought they were 
at least bombarding the cathedral itself, 
but of course it was simply the afternoon 
bombardment of some place, but not of 
Soissons. 

After leaving poor shattered Soissons 
our objective was Coucy, and Chateau 
Coucy. This was over pretty flat country, 
and the right side of the road for miles 
and miles was screened from the enemy. 
All types of screening seemed to be used, 
the thick brush, netting with bunches of 
grass tied in so as to fill each hole, and 
miles and miles of what we would call 
burlap two widths stretched from tree to 
tree where there were trees, or poles or 
trees put in for the purpose. The cloth 
was punched with small holes so that it 
could not catch the wind, and come down. 

A short way from Soissons the road- 
guard came out from his abri (these 
guards live in the funniest little holes in 
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I 



You Who Can Help 

the side of the road) and he asked for our 
papers. The French officer with us asked 
If the road to Coucy was safe. The guard 
said, " They have not begun to shell it 
to-day, but depechez-vous.^^ We hurried 
all right! And for one who had not been 
to war before it was thrilling. 

We arrived in Coucy only to see more 
destruction; in fact there seemed to be 
nothing with four walls and roof on the 
same building, but in pieces of houses sol- 
diers were making themselves as comfort- 
able as possible. 

There is not a stick of furniture in the 
houses, but to a poilu, these days, a wall 
or a roof is a good deal. The old castle 
ruins stand out picturesque upon the hill, 
compared to the hideous devastation the 
Boches have wrought. 

From Coucy we went to Epagny and 
Nouvron, to Chauny, and crossed the Oise 
on an excellent bridge that is being con- 
structed. The bridge destruction is also 
most complete from the German point of 
view, for every bridge large and small is 
destroyed, and the ends dynamited in a 
way to make the next bridge necessarily 
longer. 

There is not one building standing at 

[ 205 ] 



You Who Can Help 

Nouvron, and as this was German head- 
quarters for a long time, all the signs, all 
the warnings, were in German. There were 
a temporary German Red Cross dress- 
ing-station, a maze of German trenches 
and abri, endless hand grenades, cans 
for generating gas for the gas attacks, and 
every implement of war one could imagine. 
The road to this place was almost impas- 
sable, the shell-holes were so many and so 
deep. The country on either side of the 
road was so filled with huge shell-holes, 
you could n't tell where one began and the 
other left off. 

Each place we came to seemed worse 
than the one before, but as Chauny was a 
city with factories (there were large mirror 
works there), the ruins of this city had a 
different appearance. The whole city has 
practically gone, but here and there rise 
tons of machinery in rusty, shattered heaps, 
a silent reminder that at one time Chauny 
was an industrial town of no small size. 

From Chauny we went up through end- 
less ghosts of what were villages to the 
Eitel Friedrlch Tower, in the Bois-de- 
I'Abbe. Of course from this tower we 
could look into St. Quentin well, with 
glasses, but the day was not clear enough 
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You Who Can Help 

to see it well otherwise. From here 
on was the terrible destruction of the 
fruit trees, all cut and neatly cut, and so 
systematically that none escaped. It 
was really too hideous to see mile after 
mile of trees lying just where they fell, 
and to realize that the poor people are 
deprived of what little fruit they might 
have had. 

The road from Serancourtto Roupy was 
to me almost like a dream. The line of 
sausage balloons which are up for obser- 
vation were behind us, aeroplanes were 
scooting around overhead, and we passed 
droves of tiny, dusty donkeys which are 
used to carry ammunition into the trenches, 
and St. Quentin with its forty-five thousand 
Germans was only about four kilometers 
away before us 1 

In front of us to the left, but in front 
of the city, shells were bursting and dirt 
and debris were thrown up like geysers. 
They were shells from the French artil- 
lery on our left, disturbing the Germans 
in front of St. Quentin. We could only 
stop the motor for a few minutes on this 
road, for the officer with us was afraid the 
motor on that road might draw the Ger- 
man fire, which would be pretty hard on 

[ 207 ] 



You Who Can Help 

the poor poilus who were in that sector 
after we had scooted by. 

From Roupy we went to Ham, and as 

Major P at Compiegne had given me 

a letter to an American aviator in the 
Lafayette Escadrille, we went to the avia- 
tion field and examined the various types 
of planes, and incidentally had a delightful 
time. 

Ham is another large city; it is practi- 
cally demolished, but they have cleaned the 
streets of the debris very nicely, and one 
can get through anywhere in a motor. 
From there we came down through Guis- 
card, Noyon, Cuts to Vic-sur-Aisne, where 
these nice French officers urged us to dine 
at their mess, for it was nearly eight o'clock 
when we reached there. But as we had to 
reach Paris that night, we had to decline 
and bid farewell to the officer who had 
made this trip with us. So we continued 
on our way, arriving in Paris at midnight, 
having had three memorable days, and an 
experience few others have had. 



[ 208 ] 




On thk way from Serancourt to Roupy 

"From here on was the terrible destruction of the fruit trees, 
all cut and neatly cut, and so systematically that none escaped." 

See page 207. 



Paris, June 4, 191 7. 

We unexpectedly received letters from 
each of you yesterday, and a great surprise 
it was, for there has not been a French 
boat in, so they must have wandered in 
through England. I can't tell you how 
welcome they were and I was so glad you 
had been to see Joffre. 

Day before yesterday Marlborough had, 

with Major L , a private interview 

with Joffre. He sent for them to talk over 
the situation, and he is extravagant in his 
praises of America. Apparently the dear 
old man had the time of his life. 

Yesterday Marlborough came into the 
Alcazar about five o'clock and said that he 
was leaving for London at eleven. Cap- 
tain D came home to dinner with 

him, and they left for Bologne at eleven. 
They were to cross the Channel on a 
transport this morning, and their mis- 
sion is to meet, as the world will know 
to-morrow. General Pershing. 

At present no one knows why he went, 
nor does the public know that General 
Pershing is arriving. I am glad that Marl- 

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You Who Can Help 

borough had this detail, even with its risks, 
for it will be interesting in itself, and he 
can learn first hand just what America's 
plans are. They will be several days in 
England so I shall not expect him until the 
end of the week, or the first part of next. 

I forgot to tell you in my letter written 
after I returned from the front that I came 
home to find Marlborough with a perfectly 
good Renault limousine, and a French sol- 
dier chauffeur. So each morning his stun- 
ning limousine with its looped-back gray 
curtains awaits him. In he hops, and I a 
moment later (for appearances only) walk 
out and keep on walking three blocks, and 
stand on one foot and then the other wait- 
ing for the tram, and then am liable to 
ride second class ! Of course no woman 
can ride in a military car, but I think a little 
less than nothing of that law. 

We are still enjoying the last of the 
candy Esther sent, and the sugar I am 
hoarding. Did Mollie write you that she 
had to take a little box of sugar to school 
and keep it there for her own strawberries ? 
The boxes are put on trays, each labeled, 
and each girl uses only her own. 

Sunday morning Mollie and I went 
down to the trains. We saw three ofF 
[ 2IO ] 



You Who Can Help 

within an hour, and, in all, the gendarme 
said between seven and eight thousand 
men. It was a sight, and we gave out 
cigarettes as fast as we could. As MoUie 
said, they swarmed around us like bees, 
and so many hands stretched out almost 
made us dizzy. 



[ 2" ] 



Paris, June lo, 191 7. 

The A. F. F. W. has given up the refu- 
gee relief work by the Fund, and this 
caused the base shifting to Noyon. For 
from there they do hospital work for 
the Fund, and relief work from money 
from private sources, not through the 
Fund. So I have now a position too con- 
fining and too responsible, if one wishes to 
do anything else. However, at present 
they seem to think there is no one else, so 
I said I would do it for awhile. It is called 
head of the warehouse. 

This is the work. I have to be at my 
desk at nine-thirty every morning. All lists 
of demands from hospitals come to me. 
As the printed forms have the number of 
beds in the hospital, which of course varies 
from twenty-four to seven thousand, I set 
down the number of each article that they 
can have. I put these out in big baskets 
to be packed, type an address with ship- 
ping number to be painted on each bale. 
When there are cases of things to be sent, 
I go to the theater, find the cases, and put 
on the tags and numbers. I have to turn 

[ 212 ] 



You Who Can Help 

in all the numbers of cases sent that have 
been unpacked to a receiving clerk, and at 
three-thirty turn over to a shipping clerk 
a list of things ready to be shipped the next 
day. Consequently I am at it from nine- 
thirty until six or seven, with an hour out 
for luncheon. It is not hard, but you have 
to keep your head, or you would tie up the 
whole place. I shall not do it after Mol- 
lie's vacation, but just now it does not make 
any difference, and the busier I am the 
better, for life here is very tense anyway. 

Two more cases from the Andover Red 
Cross turned up yesterday, one of old 
clothes, which will go straight out to the 
evacuated country. As soon as I saw^ a 
suit of clothes in the package I sent Miss 

B out with it to a blind re forme who 

could not go out and learn a trade for he 
did not have a suit fit to wear. The man 
was so happy, and his little children danced 
around him, and said that a fairy had come 
and given their father some clothes, and 
they wondered if some day the fairy would 
come and give him back hi3 eyes. 

Mollie went out into the country for 
Sunday, so happy, for she was the only 
girl who had parfait at Cour this week, 
and in these French schools that means a 

[ 213 ] 



You Who Can Help 

lot. Cour days are examination or, at 
least, reviews of everything you have had 
during the week, but by another teacher, 
and to get parfait, you can only miss once. 
I am delighted to know that General 
Pershing is as far as England all right and 
shall be glad when they are across the 
Channel. The English are doing good 
work on the front now but France cer- 
tainly needs more men, and I shall be 
thankful when our troops get here, hard 
as it is to think of it. 



[ 214 ] 



Paris, June 19, 191 7. 

It would be so wonderful if I could drop 
in and talk, and tell you of all the happen- 
ings of this past week. It was a relief and 
a joy to have Marlborough back from 
England, where he had the pleasure, and 
honor as well, of being sent to meet Gen- 
eral Pershing. Of course I was too happy 
for words when he came back with his gold 
oak leaves. 

He arrived from London a day before 
the General, and on account of the Ger- 
mans knowing just when he was coming, 
the censor kept everything from the public. 
Not until noon did France know that 
Pershing was arriving at six o'clock at the 
Gare du Nord. 

I went with some friends in their car, 
and we could n't get anywhere near the 
station, for it was a sea of humanity. As 
Joffre's car plowed through it, they were 
wild with enthusiasm. We decided to go 
back down the Boulevarde, and there we 
had a wonderful place. 

Presently it was ^^Vive VAmerique''' and 
the excitement was tense. General Per- 

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You Who Can Help 

shing was so dignified and serious, yet, as 
roses were showered upon him all along 
the way, he smiled and acknowledged it all 
in a very sweet way. We followed his car 
to the Crillon where he is staying, and it 
was wonderful to see and feel that the 
American army was arriving on French 
soil, and soon would be in shape to go and 
help these people who so sorely need them. 

Sunday afternoon I asked the four or 
five officers and their wives who have been 
here all winter, a few French officers. Gen- 
eral Pershing and his staff, Mr. Thackara, 
the consul-general, and a few navy people 
to come in at five o'clock, in honor of 
Marlborough's promotion. 

The apartment was lovely with pink 
roses, which are just in their prime now. 
There were about five women and forty 
officers, and although it was my own party, 
it was a success ! I really did not expect 
General Pershing himself to come, but 
about five-thirty in he came with his aides 
and chief-of-stafif. And dear old General 
Pelletier with his one arm appeared. He 
is a dear old French general, who has been 
put on duty with General Pershing. 

General Pershing was so nice and so 
delightfully informal. Outside the street 

[ 216 ] 



You Who Can Help 

was packed with big gray war cars, all with 
French soldier chauffeurs; for they had all 
been assigned cars by the French govern- 
ment. 

Saturday night the Opera-Comique gave 
" Louise " in honor of General Pershing. 
The chief-of-staff asked Marlborough and 
me to sit with him in his box, next to the 
general's. The Opera House was packed 
and the people showed great enthusiasm, 
and we had much Star-Spangled Banner 
and Marseillaise. 



[ 217 ] 



Paris, June 20, 191 7. 

I am now busy getting through a deal 
for rabbits and goats which Mrs. I- 



money is being used fori The question of 
food for the evacuated districts has been 
a problem in my mind ever since I was up 
there. It is all right to take cases of 
macaroni, etc., but all that is temporary. 
Chickens and cows require food, so that 
is out of the question. Goats can live on 
nothing, and the milk and the cheese is 
most nourishing. And rabbits multiply so 
rapidly, that they can afford to eat them 
continually, and I guess they can scratch 
around and live on next to nothing. I am 
going to try to take the rabbits out myself, 
but I think I will ship the goats 1 Can't 
you see me with a hundred rabbits in the 
Buick? 

I have rather neglected my little hospi- 
tals recently, but I just do all I can, no one 
can do more. I have lots of lovely things 
from Andover to take them, and long to 
see a Sunday afternoon free. 

The letters telling us of the May break- 
fast made our mouths water. Could any- 

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You Who Can Help 

thing be more wonderful than brown 
bread, hot or coldl We are having all we 
need to eat and more, but there are natu- 
rally things which seem wonderful to think 
about eating. 

We are all well. Marlborough goes to 
the English front to-morrow for a few 
days. 



[ 219 ] 



Paris, June 24, 191 7. 

I received another box from you yester- 
day with pajamas, comfort pillows, and 
fracture pillows, and I was so glad to see 
them all. And to-morrow on my way 
home from work, I am going to stop in at 
the Russian hospital, which is in the As- 
toria on the Champs Elysees, for they are 
most urgently asking for pajamas and frac- 
ture pillows. I met one of the night nurses 
in the receiving ward, and she was so happy 
when I told her I could help her out. 

Marlborough wrote to you awhile ago 
about the necessity of saving tonnage, for 
there is so much which must be sent from 
America, to put an end to this horrible 
war. But now there seems the probability 
ot many more ships. In which case don't 
stop your good work, unless you have to. 

You asked for suggestions concerning 
things you make. I would suggest making 
the pajamas out of light-colored Canton 
flannel rather than the gray. In the first 
place the men love the light pink and blues, 
and the appearance in a hospital bed is 
better. And I think the psychological effect 

[ 220 ] 



You Who Can Help 

on the man is worth a great deal. The 
Louisville Committee have sent all light- 
colored ones lately, and the men have been 
crazy over them. They loved the light 
pink and blue nightshirts you sent in the 
winter. 

The comfort bags do send me, address 
American Relief Clearing-House for Mrs. 
M. C, A. F. F. W., for I can take them 
to the station some night to a " party." 
We went down one night this week and 
took four hundred bags, and that was not 
enough, and you feel as sorry for the men 
who don't get them as you would for a 
child at a party where the ice-cream gave 
out before he had any. 



[ 221 ] 



Paris, July ii, 191 7. 

I have not had a chance to write you 
since my rabbit trip a week ago. It was 
wonderful, although motoring with seventy 
rabbits is not all a joy. Miss Casparis, my 
chauffeur, and I started soon after ten 
o'clock Saturday night, in a drizzling rain. 
We reached Compiegne shortly after mid- 
night; the sentries on the road were so 
good and recognizing the car, did not stop 
us for papers. It was so late, cold, and 
rainy that we decided to leave the rabbit- 
cases piled in the Buick as they were, and 
turn in for a night's sleep ourselves. 

This we had without any trouble, and 
we were up and off again the next morning 
shortly after eight. We missed our road 
so had a nice little tour out by Soissons. 
I am sure we passed hundreds, and, it 
seemed, millions of machine guns, and am- 
munition all drawn by little mules, and the 
dear old poilus trudging along beside. 
Then came regiments of artillery, and, 
walking in a little company behind the 
kitchens, were a lot of German prisoners. 
They looked very healthy and happy, and 
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You Who Can Help 

I suppose were being taken along to dig 
trenches and do the dirty work. 

We found so much of the country, par- 
ticularly between Vic-sur-Aisne and Noyon, 
changed. All lumber used in abris and 
trenches had been taken out and piled in 
neat piles on the side of the road; barbed 
wire was being rolled up, and all the metal 
that could be used again put in big piles. 
In fact they were clearing up that wonder- 
fully interesting place that was just as the 
Boche had left it when we saw it a month 
ago. The amount of material they can 
find under ground to bring up and use 
again is colossal. But I am so thankful 
that I saw it as it can never be seen again, 
in its original state. 

We arrived in Noyon before noon, 
where Dr. Eleanor Kilham and Miss 
Arnold gave us a warm welcome. We had 
luncheon with them in the so-called hotel 
in which they live. Most of the walls are 
standing, with an occasional shell-hole here 
and there, and the place is far from a 
modern hotel. All the plumbing had been 
put out of commission by the Boche be- 
fore leaving Noyon. There is no window- 
glass, and no furniture excepting what we 
brought out for them before. But you 

[ 223 ] 



You Who Can Help 

have no idea how comfortable they have 
made themselves, and they are doing a big 
work. 

After a nice luncheon of sardines, an 
omelette, and some fruit which we took 
up to them, we left with our rabbits for 
Brouchy. This is a dear little settlement, 
only partly destroyed, and trying to live 
again. We went to the office of a French 
captain who is revitaillement officer; he 
had been notified that I was arriving with 
seventy rabbits. He had the names of all 
the families where they could care for 
them, and he went with us from house to 
house. The dear little old women and 
children were wild with enthusiasm, and 
ran after the machine from house to house 
as we went along. The people who re- 
ceived a pair of rabbits had to sign a Gov- 
ernment paper that it was " defendu " to 
eat the original pair within a year. 

One poor little woman whose name was 
not on the list followed us from place to 
place, hoping there might be some left for 
her. I would have given her a pair at 
once, but the captain did not seem dis- 
turbed; he just politely told her that her 
name was not on the list, but that another 
time she might have one. 
[ 224 ] 




A WOMAN RECEIVING A RABBIT AT BrOUCHY 

"A dear little settlement only partly destroyed, 
and trying to live again." 



You Who Can Help 

I took up about a dozen picture books 
made from the pictures the South Church 
Junior Endeavor sent me, and the children 
adored them. I also bought dozens of 
balls for the little boys from some of my 
" fund " money. 

It was a wonderful experience, and a 
marvelous trip, and I wish you could have 
shared some of the joy I had. 



[ 225 ] 



Paris, July 17, 191 7. 

Sunday morning at nine I started for 
Noyon again. I fortunately have a pass 
which is good for a week longer. It was 
a glorious morning, and to me it is always 
thrilling to get beyond Compiegne. We 
took a little trip on the side through Olin- 
court, Bailly, Tracy, etc., and went through 
endless French trenches and abris. They 
are so wonderful, and it so thrilling to 
wander down in the earth and see miles 
and miles of these trenches and abris, just 
as the soldiers left them. 

We had a wonderful day, and, when we 
reached Noyon, found Doctor Kilham, 
who is in charge of a depot for relief work 
there, who greeted us most cordially. We 
also found that the car we went to get was 
not ready to be taken out of the repair 
shop, so we spent the night at Noyon, at the 
so-called, but unfurnished, hotel I have 
written about before. Each time I see it, it 
seems more like a stage-setting than a real- 
ity. But my night, sleeping in a chair (a 
chaise-longue) , was more of a reality than 
a dream. Unless you bring your bed to 
[ 226 ] 



You Who Can Help 

this hotel, you don't find such a luxury. 
Fortunately Doctor Kilham had a chaise- 
longue and a blanket, and so with a com- 
fort pillow which some dear American 
made for a blesse, I was most comfortable. 
I was sorry there was not a note attached 
to the pillow, for I should have had lots 
of fun acknowledging it. 

There was precious little gunfire to be 
heard, and, thank goodness, no air raids 
during the night. However, the town, 
what there is left of it, has been carefully 
canvassed and on the outside of each house 
is a sign saying how many people can be 
housed in the cellar, in case of an attack. 

After a quiet and peaceful night we got 
up early, expecting to start back, but as 
usual there was something else which ought 
to be fixed on the car and it could n't be 
used for another day. I could n't be away 
from Marlborough when I did n't have to, 
so I came down by train. The way they 
have cleared up the debris of war and 
destruction in that part of the country is 
marvelous. 

To-day I worked until after seven, with 
only a short time out for lunch. To-mor- 
row I am going to take a day off that is 
not Sunday, and am going by the eight 

[ 227 ] 



You Who Can Help 

o'clock train from the Gare du Nord for 
Noyon. I shall get up there before noon 
and motor down. This is positively my 
last appearance in that wonderfully fas- 
cinating war zone, for my pass runs out 
on Saturday. I have had wonderful 
chances, and I feel that what I have been 
able to do financially in the way of relief, 
has repaid the French government for the 
privileges they gave me. 

We are all very well, and it is quite cool 
and rainy for summer. In fact, it is hard 
to believe it is the middle of the summer. 
Marlborough is still in Paris, I am thank- 
ful to say, but we all know that General 
Pershing will send some of his staff out 
soon. Naturally Marlborough hopes to be 
included in that part of the staff, so I shall 
not be selfish about it. But there is nothing 
about duty at the front that is over-cheer- 
ful, from my point of view. 

However, this war must be fought and 
won, so I guess it is up to us all to " trust 
in God, and fight like the devil." 



[ 228 ] 



Paris, July 22, 19 17. 

Yesterday we received a letter from you 
written July Fourth, and I felt badly to 
read in it that you would be so interested 
to hear about the Fourth here, for I knew 
I never had written about it. At the time 
I purposely did n't write about it, fearing 
that I might not give the impression that 
it was a wonderful day for France. For 
to me the day was overwhelming, seeing 
our American troops, so young and strong, 
about to face the Boche, thinking of the 
many lives to be sacrificed, and of how 
America was about to begin to realize 
what this terrible war means. 

I took Mollie to the gallery of the Court 
des Invalides, where the presentation of 
the flags took place. And such a setting 
for the impressive ceremony ! The French 
troops were drawn up on one side of the 
Court, and the American battalion of in- 
fantry on the other. 

When General Joflfre and the other dis- 
tinguished French officers came in, the 
United States band played the Marseil- 
laise, and when General Pershing and his 

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You Who Can Help 

staff officers came into the hollow square 
formed by the troops, the French band 
played the Star-Spangled Banner. 

Then they reviewed the troops, and I 
assure you that when General Pershing 
walked down in front of his first line of 
American troops in France, one felt that 
the " Vive VAmerique " which went up 
from the crowd could be heard across the 
water. At the same time tears were rolling 
down the cheeks of nearly everybody. Of 
course many of those infantrymen will see 
the end of the war, but not a man or a 
woman who looked upon them did n't real- 
ize the sacrifice that the first troops that 
go in have got to make. Naturally the 
part of the line the American forces are 
to take is being kept very quiet. But there 
is not the slightest doubt but that the Ger- 
mans know, and I fear their first blow will 
try to be a crushing one to America. How- 
ever, we have got to keep our heads up, 
and face the future cheerfully. 

I hope, and am glad to hear, that the 
training is going on so well at home, for 
we must have a trained army to replace 
our regular army when needed. This hide- 
ous war must end, and we all know what 
ending it must have. 
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You Who Can Help 

Thursday the general told Marlbor- 
ough that he was needed to work on things 
of his own branch of the service. And 
he has been given the training of aerial 
observation in connection with field artil- 
lery. The world knows that aviation and 
field artillery are two big factors in this 
war, and I have said all along that the 
man who had the organizing and training 
of artillery observers from the air was one 
of the luckiest men in the field artillery, at 
the same time always saying to Marlbor- 
ough, " but thank goodness you don't fly." 

He has been flying as observer a good 
deal lately, however, and I have got over 
my silly notion in regard to flying. And 
I assure you flying-machines in France are 
not like American machines. He is tre- 
mendously interested in it, and although it 
may take him all over the place, the big 
aviation training places are near Paris, so 
I think he is bound to be in or near Paris 
part of the time. 

The day I left for Noyon at eight, we 
arrived about noon, found the camion 
ready, and, after getting so-called lunch 
there, we left for Avricourt. This place 
is very much in ruins, but the saddest spot 
was in the grounds of the once beautiful 

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You Who Can Help 

Chateau d'Avricourt. Prince Eitel Fried- 
rich had this place for his abode and be- 
fore retreating toolc all the beautiful things 
from it and sent them back to Germany; 
then he blew up the chateau. It was a 
mass of ruins, but the horrible wreck was 
being cleared up by a large gang of Ger- 
man prisoners. 

We then motored up to Roye. We 
found Roye very much in ruins. The cathe- 
dral must have been a most beautiful one. 

From Roye we went to Montdidier, then 
down to Senlis and Paris. Before reach- 
ing Montdidier we went through many ab- 
solutely ruined towns, and such shell-holes! 
We could barely get the motor through. 
The trenches and abris we went into were 
more temporary looking than the ones we 
had seen before, but oh, all so interesting! 

I have had wonderful experiences and 
wonderful opportunities. For a time, my 
trips to the evacuated district are over, 
but through my many generous friends 
I feel that I have been able to bring suf- 
ficient help to warrant every trip I have 
taken. 



[ 232 ] 




Ruins of a house in Roye. People are living in 

THE lower right-hand CORNER 



Paris, July 29, 191 7. 

Probably O has told you all the 

news of Paris, and how as a farewell from 
Paris they were treated to an air raid. 
Moll and I sat on her window-sill, in our 
wrappers, from eleven-thirty until after 
one, watching the endless aeroplanes. It 
was certainly spectacular, but a spectacle 
I could live without. It seems they were 
not Zepps, but a flock of German aero- 
planes. The few bombs they dropped 
did n't do any damage, but they had the 
places spotted pretty well. 

Last night I was invited to motor out to 
the Trianon Palace Hotel, at Versailles, 
for dinner. I accepted at once, and it was 
too heavenly down there, — a glorious 
moonlight night, and the war really seemed 
a million miles away, and almost forgotten. 
We motored home the long way, and I 
did n't get back to the apartment until 
about midnight. I had barely put my light 
out, and settled down for a nice night's 
sleep, when the sirens, bugles, and fire- 
engines were turned loose again, and an- 
other raid was on. Two nights in succes- 

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You Who Can Help 

sion seemed a little too much. Fortunately 
Moll did n't wake up until the " all over " 
bugles sounded. 

It has been rainy to-day, and I think is 
fairly cloudy to-night, so I guess all will be 
quiet. 1 certainly hope so ! 

Marlborough has been away since Fri- 
day, up on the English front. He motored 
to Dunkirk, and is up where that terrific 
battle is going on. He went purposely 
during these terrific days of battle to see 
how they used their air service, with the 
artillery, and with what results. I am get- 
ting used to his constant flying. He likes 
his pilot very much, but to me days when 
he had Jinny to ride, and the gray horse 
and the little red cart to drive, seem less 
nerve-racking than the present days, when 
he has a big Renault car, and his own 
Farman 'plane. However, I guess he is 
just as safe as I am in a taxi ! 

To-day word came in from Nancy that 
they were evacuating, and that there were 
hundreds of babies and young children 
who were in urgent need of clothes and 
milk, and must be removed at once, for 
they were all too small to wear gas masks, 
and gas bombs were being used extensively 
in that sector. We sent three camions of 

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You Who Can Help 

things, as well as nurses from the Red 
Cross, directly to Toul. I was so glad that 
I had personally hoarded fifty cans of con- 
densed milk for just such an emergency. 

I think that America, and particularly 
little Andover, Massachusetts, did wonder- 
fully well for the War Relief Fund. 

It is so heathenish to think one country 
appropriates all it can for engines of war 
and ammunition, while another gives what 
it can for the relief of the suffering. I am 
strong for peace, and wish they would all 
cease ruining lives and property. 



[ 235 ] 



Paris, August 5, 191 7. 

Marlborough had a wonderful time at 
the English front in Flanders, and what do 
you suppose he did while he was there? 
Last Saturday night several Hauley- 
Paige 'planes were going on a bombing 
raid on the German gares, ammunition 
dumps, etc., and he was asked if he wanted 
to go along. I am afraid I should have 
found important business to attend to, but 
not Marlborough, — he went. 

They flew about thirty kilometers back 
of the German lines, dropped bombs on 
railroad stations, ammunition stations, etc. 
The Germans put their searchlights on 
them, which Marlborough said was the 
only uncomfortable time, — to be suddenly 
thrust in the lime-light. There were no 
shots which came uncomfortably near, he 
said, but I assure you a bombing trip over 
the German lines is a thrilling experience, 
is n't it? 

The household is a bit upset to-day, for 
Sophie's brother left last night for the 
front; he is in the Foreign legion, and by 
the looks of her eyes she spent the night in 

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You Who Can Help 

tears. But to-day she is in tears of joy, 
for she has heard from her father for the 
first time since the war began. He and 
her two sisters are all right and all well. 
When one is resigned to no news, the sud- 
den joy of even good news is upsetting. 
Really what people can go through and are 
going through, in this war, is a revelation. 



[ 237 ] 



Paris, August 7, 191 7. 

We were so happy to-day to receive let- 
ters from you all. You never say the same 
things, and if you did we would n't mind. 
You are apparently canning everything in 
sight, but you won't regret it. You are 
probably sick of the sight of a Mason jar 
or a jelly tumbler, but I know just how 
much like a million dollars they will look 
one of these days. I hate to think of your 
doing it in all the heat, and your prophecy 
that it was probably hotter in Paris was 
wrong. It is cool and rainy, and I guess 
we are not going to have any warm 
weather. As Moll and I have both used 
our silk puffs on our beds practically every 
night, I begin to wonder what we can do 
when winter comes. I see where we shall 
have to have two apiece then 1 

You have asked what Moll was doing 
this vacation, and I don't wonder you ask. 
Until to-day some of the girls have been 
in town, and it is either having some of 
the girls for luncheon, and tennis at St. 
Didier Club in the afternoon, or spending 
the day with the girls. And if there has 
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You Who Can Help 

been a free morning or afternoon she has 
come to the Alcazar and has done some 
good work. Although it is not even 
warm, I know she should have a change. 
It is hard for me to make up my mind 
to leave Marlborough, but next time he 
goes out perhaps I can get away for a 
few days. Sundays we try to get away for 
the day, and it really means a real rest, for 
then we are out of call of our good friends, 
and from all work and writing, and must 
relax. 

If it does not rain this Sunday we are 
going to try and spend the day and possi- 
bly Saturday night at Fontainebleau, And 
one Sunday we are going to Sceaux, where 
the cafes are up In the trees. That idea 
pleases Moll a lot, and it delights my soul 
not a little. 

We had one Sunday in a lovely garden 
out beyond Auteuil, and down by the qiiai. 
These days out of doors, when we can all 
shake our work and all be together, mean 
everything to me. 

You asked if food was higher and harder 
to get. It is quite a bit higher than last 
winter, for instance, but there is plenty of 
it, certain things are harder to find, but you 
forget them, and just have something else. 

[ 239 ] 



You Who Can Help 

Paris is simply bristling with Americans ; 
land knows where they all come from, or 
how they get here, but they are all here, 
and most men in uniform of some de- 
scription. 



[ 240 ] 



HouLGATB, Calvados, August 14, 191 7. 

As you see, the bird has flown, and I am 
not in Paris, but up here in Normandy, in 
a wonderful seashore spot, Houlgate. 
Last week. Marlborough found he would 
be away from Monday until Friday of this 
week, so that seemed like a wonderful 
chance to give Moll some sea-bathing. 

Although I know no one here, I heard 
the beach was fine and only six hours from 
Paris. Moll and I spent three hours Sun- 
day afternoon going from one commissaire 
de police to another, to get our papers, 
and left Paris at eight o'clock yesterday 
morning. It was a delightful day, and as 
we had only two people in our carriage 
part of the time, the time passed very 
quickly, and, after a fine luncheon on the 
train, we arrived at two o'clock. 

The hotel is large, and all but sitting 
on the beach; the Casino and the hotels 
on the beach are now hospitals. Our room 
is very comfortable and the table is very 
good ; as it is an expensive place they both 
should be good. 

After signing all papers here to register 

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You Who Can Help 

with the police, we went at once to the 
beach, where we reveled In the sand all 
the afternoon until about five, when we 
went in for a swim. The water was per- 
fect, and we hated to come out, and have 
both decided that the Channel is a fine 
place to bathe. But it was queer to bathe 
with two huge Taubes floating in the 
heavens above. 

We sat around and watched these funny 
French people after dinner, and then had 
a nice night's sleep. This morning we 
were in the water again at eleven. I 
can't tell you how funny it seems to loaf, 
for since September 15 last year I have 
only missed one day from the Alcazar, ex- 
cepting the days I had near the front. I 
thought I would bring bunches of letters 
to answer; then I decided as I had but 
four days to be away I would get more 
rest if I did absolutely nothing. 

The beach is huge and wonderful, and 
our bathing-suits would almost shock the 
Shack styles. They consist of short trou- 
sers, not bloomers, and a short Russian 
blouse, and the best part of all no stock- 
ings. Moll is loving it all, and it is such 
pleasure to do this for her. After the won- 
derful year she put in at school, she de- 
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You Who Can Help 

serves a fine time. With her new striped 
silk sweater and cane, she is quite the 
smartest thing on the beach. 

This afternoon we walked by the beach 
to Dives-sur-Mer, the next place, where 
I purchased two platters at a very- 
small price, to replace two which have 
been broken, at a big Normandy pottery 
place. 

Then we ran across a fascinating spot, a 
hotel, or at least an inn, the home of 
William the Conqueror. The inn and the 
wonderful things in it and the garden one 
could never describe. We had tea here, 
and incidentally a thunder-shower! 

We shall be here two more days, then 
back to Paris Friday, when Marlborough 
will get back. He is out all along the " to 
be " American line, and seeing what the 
opportunities for his work at headquarters 
will be. I have visions of his leaving Paris 
for headquarters about the middle of the 
month, although nothing has been said yet. 
But I know that is the reason we are not 
summering any longer, and I am sure you 
will quite understand. Do not think that 
we are suffering with the heat in Paris; it 
has been cool all the time and hard to 
realize that it is summer. Why it is I 

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You Who Can Help 

don't know but this place is really summer- 
like ; light clothes look and feel all right. 

To go back, — Thursday night we dined 
with the American consul-general, and had 
a delightful time, for he is a dear. Then 
came Marlborough's birthday, and a nice 
little birthday dinner by ourselves at Tour 
d'Argent. 

Sunday night we dined with General 
Pershing. He had a dinner of about 
twenty-five, and out of the twenty-five 
about eight women. General Joffre was 
expected at the dinner, but at the last mo- 
ment something turned up to prevent his 
coming. I am sorry it did, for I should 
have loved to meet him that way. 



[ 244 ] 



Paris, August 20, 191 7. 

Here I am back in Paris again, after 
five perfect days at the shore. We arrived 
about eight Friday night, and found Marl- 
borough here ; he had arrived about an 
hour before. His trip had been very suc- 
cessful, and delightful as well. I quite 
envied him the trip to Rheims, for that is 
one place I would love to go. I think he 
was surprised to see so much of the Cathe- 
dral standing, for they are constantly 
dropping shells in there, and you wonder 
there is anything left. 

I was delighted to find letters from you 
all waiting for me, and a box of sugar from 
you. Thanks a thousand times, for that 
means we can ask people in for tea without 
the fear of lack of sugar. And as one of 
my co-workers, who has just gone home, 
gave me a couple of pounds she had, I 
feel rich in sugar. 

You asked if I liked the sugar, or what 
we would like. Of course the sugar is 
wonderful, and a tremendous help, and if 
I could have a box about every three 
months, our guests could always have 

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You Who Can Help 

sugar. I would love another box about 
December. Moll and I often think about 
the gum-drops you sent, but they are hardly 
a necessity! They really arrive better 
than hard candies, for some reason, for 
some of the hard candies showed the effect 
of sitting in a hot place on the way. 

The only idea for us all to have at pres- 
ent is to beat the Boche. Marlborough 
said when he went along the line where 
the American troops are, the appearance 
and military discipline made an excellent 
impression. They all looked in fine shape 
physically, and ready for what 's before 
them. 

You say you know nothing about troops 
leaving America ; we know the same, noth- 
ing, about their arriving in France. I 
heard yesterday that certain artillery regi- 
ments had arrived. I imagine few of the 
original people are still in those regiments, 
and as they don't come to Paris, it takes 
some time to hear who is here. How I 
should love to sit on the dock and see 
everybody as they land ! Canteen work at 
the American Base was terribly tempting, 
but you can't do everything, although you 
want to. 

[246 ] 



Paris, August 26, 191 7. 

Marlborough has been away for a few 
days but came back last night, and to-day 
received the news that he was a lieutenant- 
colonel in the National Army. Colonel 
Churchill seems too wonderful, and natu- 
rally I am perfectly delighted. My card 
plate is wearing thin, changing titles so 
often. I have just received the Major and 
Mrs. Churchill cards! 

The colonel leaves for the front Thurs- 
day, and it is hard to realize that he will 
be at the front until this terrible war is 
over. His work, I hope, will bring him 
back occasionally. All the courage and 
cheerfulness I have learned from these 
wonderful French people this past year 
helps as I face this none too cheerful 
future. Although I am terribly proud to 
have him out there doing his part, I assure 
you the fighting on this western front is 
something one can't conceive of. 

Yesterday came a letter from Ham from 
Doctor Kilham, asking whether, if I could 
get a hundred more rabbits, she could have 
them. It was so gratifying to have the 

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You Who Can Help 

money for them from my " fund " and to 
know that fifty families are to be made 
happy. I sent for my rabbit man, and 
notified the doctor to send a camion down : 
the rabbits leave Paris at six this morning. 
As I was also engaged in buying a wooden 
leg yesterday, you see my duties vary. 



[ 248 ] 



Paris, September 4, 19 17. 

Well, the hard break has come and past, 
Marlborough is at the front, and I am 
adjusting myself to life here without him. 
It was not easy to have him go, as you well 
know, and this war is n't a simple thing for 
anyone to face, but everything is by com- 
parisons. And compared to the suffering 
about me, I have not a thing to even speak 
of, in simply separation, when we are all 
well, and all busy. He left Saturday morn- 
ing early, and to-day is Tuesday, and I 
received my first letter this afternoon, 
which one of his associates brought in. 

I am not worrying about his discomforts, 
for I think he is about to live in a marvel- 
ous chateau I In the note I received he 
said he saw practically everybody we know 
in the army, and when he goes to artillery 
headquarters I hope to hear particulars 
of everybody. 

Life is certainly a curious thing these 
days. I am happy that we can feel our 
Government has been on the job, since we 
came into this fray, and the best part is 
they have certainly guarded a great deal 
from the press. They have said little, but 

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You Who Can Help 

evidently things are happening all the time, 
and our first big force is under intensive 
training at the front here. 

I am still at my old job, and shall stick 
to it as long as they need me, and as long 
as the work goes on in the same way. The 
Red Cross has not taken it over as yet, and 
work is going on there in full force, yet 
handicapped by lack of girls, for until we 
know whether the Red Cross is to take it 
over, we cannot send for girls from this 
end. To-day came a rush order for two 
hundred cases of dressings for Roumania, 
so with the regular work it has been rather 
an exciting day. 

When I came home for luncheon, I 
found that my maids were in a great state 
of excitement. A few days ago my cook 
heard that her niece, sixteen years old, had 
been left in some little town which the 
Germans had recently evacuated. It has 
been impossible for us to get into commu- 
nication with her, to tell her where her 
mother was, and that her father was still 
fighting for France, and well. Although 
we could n't reach her by letter, we could 
write to her father that she had been 
found, although nothing has been heard of 
her sister. 

[ 250 ] 




"We found Roye very much in ruins. 1 he cathedral 

MUST have been A MOST BEAUTIFUL ONE." 

See page 232. 



You Who Can Help 

Yesterday the father was liberated from 
service and sent back to work in the mines, 
for he was a miner by trade. He hap- 
pened to go through Lyons, and while 
there, just passing through, he heard his 
daughter had just been sent to Lyons by 
the Government; he went where the refu- 
gees were and found her, and brought her 
here to Clemence. So, when I came in, the 
poor old father and daughter were sitting 
in the kitchen, neither able to do much 
more than weep, their joy was so great. 
The girl had absolutely nothing in the 
world but the few clothes she had on, so 
I knew I must find a coat and hat for her, 
at least. My own wardrobe is a " war 
wardrobe," which I assure you is pretty 
nearly bare necessities. However, I did 
have two suits, which hardly seems extrava- 
gant, for one cannot stay in bed while one 
suit is being pressed 1 But when Moll said, 
" Mother, that girl needs it more than you 
do," that was enough. So with the suit 
and a small black hat and a pretty white 
blouse which I had given Moll but which 
she said was too large for her, we made 
the girl very happy. 

One could n't really grasp what a horror 
the last three years must have been to that 

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You Who Can Help 

child. Death cannot be half as hard to 
bear as the mental agony and heartache for 
those whose children have been carried 
away. With the few sous a day the French 
poilu gets, and the child penniless, you can 
imagine the amount of money they had 
between them I They had a nice luncheon 
here in the kitchen, and the poor old man 
had only one other idea besides weeping, 
and that was to take the child to the 
mother. So, thanks to my fund, I gave 
him some money, and they left this after- 
noon for a little town out near Belfort. 



[ 252 ] 



Paris, September g, 191 7. 

I was perfectly delighted yesterday to 
have Marlborough call me up from 
"Somewhere in France"; it was fine to 
hear his voice and to know that he was 
all right. It seems that he had not re- 
ceived any letters from me, excepting a 
couple that I had sent out by men going 
out; he had telegraphed asking if all was 
well, and had had no reply. That tele- 
gram I have n't seen yetl So you can see 
the front is not a very easy place to com- 
municate with. Just where the letters have 
gone that I have mailed daily to him, I 
know not. But the nicest part of all was 
to hear that he would have to come in some 
day this week, on business. 

We are still working like beavers; yes- 
terday Mrs. Lathrop told me that two 
thousand cases would arrive to-day, which 
does n't suggest a day of loafing. 

Just how long they are going to continue 
to come no one knows. I hope the comfort 
bags from Honolulu are in this lot of cases. 
Have the Farmington comfort bags been 
sent? If they are all on the way, I think 

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You Who Can Help 

I shall make a collection for Christmas 
morning at the train. 

Moll and I went down to the two trains 
this morning as we did last week Sunday, 
and had a beautiful time. There were not 
more than two thousand men this morning, 
and most of them were in very good spirits. 

Friday night we went to Mme Destray's 
canteen, where we gave the men a party, it 
being the third anniversary of the battle 
of the Marne. There were about eighty 
there, and they had a glorious time, eating, 
singing, and smoking their heads off. 
When you know what their daily life is, 
and the sadness and sorrows many are 
carrying in their hearts, I can't tell you the 
pleasure I have in helping them relax and 
for a few hours have a jolly time and for- 
get the war. 

There is so much sadness, as well as 
agony, in this heathenish war, that I think 
it is up to all of us to be as cheerful as 
we can, and give as much pleasure as we 
can. The other day after Marlborough 
left, and I felt as if the bottom had dropped 
out of life, but knew I had to go on facing 
the unknown future cheerfully, I know I 
walked down the Champs Elysees with a 
long face, for life looked pretty serious. 

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You Who Can Help 

Before I reached the Alcazar, I passed a 
dear young poilu, with both arms off above 
the elbow. He was alone ; he had a cigar- 
ette in his mouth, and was as cheerful as 
a May morning, walking along with almost 
American energy. At once I was ashamed 
of the sad feelings I was trying to walk, 
off and realized I had nothing to be sad 
over. 

When I reached the Alcazar there was 
a cheerful, jolly Colonial, in his little red 
fez and baggy trousers, with both arms 
gone at the shoulder; he just thought he 
would like to see the work there, for he 
had received such nice things from there, 
when he was in the hospital. When he 
apologized for not saluting but, as he said, 
had given his arms for France, that was 
enough. So people who have health, and 
have not met sorrow in this war, ought to 
be taken out and shot at daylight, if they 
make themselves, and everybody around 
them, miserable, worrying about what 
might happen. Be cheerful for those who 
have nothing left in life to be cheerful over 
is my motto. 



[ 2JS ] 



Paris, September 14, 191 7. 

How could I write you anything nicer 
than to tell you that Marlborough is sitting 
here doing some work on his typewriter. 

Yesterday he reached me on the long- 
distance from the front, saying that he was 
obliged to come to Paris on business, with 

General K , and that they would both 

be in for dinner about eight. Almost on 
the minute they appeared, and although the 
two weeks he had been gone was nothing 
in these times, it was and is such a joy to 
know that he is going to be able to come 
in sometimes, and what is more will have 
to, on business! 

And now that this first break is over it 
will be much easier, although life at the 
front is not one you would choose. It is not 
that he is living in the front-line trenches, 
— far from it, for he is at present in a 
delightful and historic chateau. But with 
German bombing raids, there are plavces 
safer than headquarters. It seems the 
Huns thought they had made a ten-strike 
the other night and even had the general's 
house, but it was the next town, which from 

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You Who Can Help 

the air looked the same, — statues In the 
square and all. A miss is as good as many 
miles. 

I know you have been roasting to death 
this summer, and I hope have cooled off 
now. I have been warm twice this sum- 
mer, and only one of those days would it 
have been more comfortable without a 
coat. And as for the coming winter I am 
well provided for in wood; yesterday I 
received 140 francs' worth of wood, and 
stored it in my cave in the cellar, so don't 
giv6 me a thought, and I also have the 
wood from many boxes sent to me. I know 
the joy of a box-cover fire in the bed-room, 
but I can't believe it is all but time for such 
things again, not having any summer. 



[ 257 ] 



Paris, October i, 191 7. 

I have been to see the work being done 
for the re-education of the mut'iles at the 
Grand Palais. The entire building is now 
a huge military hospital, and in the court- 
yard are many little shops where the con- 
valescents are allowed to learn a trade 
fitted for artificial arms, or maimed and 
helpless hands, some work which will give 
them employment during the period of 
convalescence, or fit them for a new trade 
in their maimed condition. 

I have been especially interested in a 
little shop where the men were making and 
dressing dolls. It is most complete. They 
take a bit of pulp and place it in molds 
and presses, and it shortly turns into arms, 
legs, and heads for dolls; they put them 
together, and paint the faces and arrange 
the clothes and hair with the utmost in- 
terest and care. 

These men are either convalescing to go 
back to the front, or to be discharged and 
sent out into the world to find employment, 
crippled in body for life. There were 
many of these men about to be discharged, 

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You Who Can Help 

and there seemed to be no way o'/ fitting 
them out with warm clothing. 'So some 
money from my " fund " was put into good 
warm underclothing and socks, and their 
gratitude was almost pathetic. To-day I 
received a couple of dolls for " the kind 
American ladies who sent them the 
clothes." The costume of the one I send 
you was surely a special effort. Bless their 
hearts, these poor poilus have such cour- 
age, one could never do better than try to 
follow their wonderful example. 



[ 259 ] 



Paris, October 2, 191 7. 

These davys are naturally crowded with 
important work. I hate to be pessimistic 
about any phase of it, but with Russia prac- 
tically out of die running, what is to pre- 
vent Germany from putting her entire 
force on this western and Italian front? 
I think we all realize that we have got to 
go the limit in preparation to save the lives 
of as many of our men as we can. Dear 
little old France is still pegging along and 
I feel that her hardest winter was last win- 
ter. I think that this one will be easier, 
for the English troops are in fine form, and 
the American troops are on French soil 
and can be in shape to help soon. 

Marlborough is busy. He is, by the 
way, a lieutenant-colonel in the Regular 
Army now. I can't follow all the changes 
in rank of all our good army friends. I 
want to see them all do their part in put- 
ting down the Hun — quick 1 

Last night the heavens were so full of 

aeroplanes one could n't do any dreaming. 

I was turning in about twelve when Moll 

opened her door, and said, " The aero- 

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You Who Can Help 

planes are making such a noise they woke 
me up." And I did n't wonder, for the 
noise was exactly like the sawmill which 
used to " sing " so constantly when we 
lived in Elm Square. So with the pink 
satin puff about her and the blue one about 
me, we hung out of her window. The 
heavens were full of aeroplanes. With 
their lights they are the prettiest things in 
the world. After a while we went to bed, 
but I guess the noise went on all night. 
The Boches are getting active in the air 
now; they will bear careful watching. 
England is getting her share of annoyance 
from them, but I hope she will continue to 
keep them under control. The Germans 
are busy all the time, whether they are in 
the trenches, under the sea or in the air. 

Of course losing Riga, and having Rus- 
sia practically out of the game is no joke. 
England, however, is doing wonderfully 
well and her strength to-day is superb. She 
may have taken three years to build her 
army, but she has arrived with it now. 



[ 261 ] 



Paris, October 14, 191 7. 

I am wondering if letters with you are 
as irregular as they are at this end. I re- 
ceived one of September fifth and one of 
the twenty-third at the same time. They 
are a joy to get, so I don't care when they 
come. 

I went to my little canteen Friday even- 
ing, and a Frenchman on permission in 
Paris, who was a noted opera singer and 
head of music of some division, had prom- 
ised to sing. P went with me and 

thought the whole thing was one of the 
most impressive things he had ever seen. 
This man sang most divinely; you never 
heard anything more wonderful. It was 
he who stood up and sang at Rheims when 
the Cathedral was being bombarded; for 
this he was afterwards decorated. 

I know that you will be entertained when 
you hear that I am now in uniform. There 
are so many women arriving in Paris that 
the A. F. F. W. thought it best to protect 
the young girls working for them by hav- 
ing a uniform. Consequently it was up to 
the old workers to get their uniforms at 
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You Who Can Help 

once. The motor service have always been 
in uniform, so we adopted their summer 
type, — a covert cloth, with dark-blue col- 
lar and sleeve ornament, the Sam Brown 
belt, and I adopted the leather buttons in 
preference to the Red Cross buttons, which 
look much smarter. The shoulder straps 
have A. F. F. W. in dark blue. 

My hand is so cold I can't write more, 
so I must go to bed to get warm. I think 
that until November i we shall be having 
some of our most uncomfortable days, for 
we can't have heat until then. 



[ 263 ] 



Paris, October 19, 191 7. 

We are all so pleased over the bagging 
of the bunch of Zepps day before yester- 
day, and naturally it gives one a feeling of 
confidence in French anti-air gunnery. The 
one which came down intact, and surren- 
dered, is within a few kilometers of 
Marlborough. 

The alarm was given in one section of 
Paris by the Gare du Nord, but not up 
in this part of the world. As this was at 
two o'clock, and the " danger past " not 
until five, I am glad I was spared. 

Moll and I are well, and she is so in- 
terested in a Halloween party she is going 
to, she can think of nothing else. She 
must go as a black cat; it is an awful thing 
when the next generation have the same 
ideas you have had. She was much amused 
when I told her that I went as a cat once. 
So in our odd moments we are constructing 
a cat! 

By the way, if you can get another box 
of sugar started to me for December I 
should be awfully grateful. I still have 
one box untouched, and it may be enough, 

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You Who Can Help 

for I know I shall not have to use any of 
it this month. But our sugar allowance 
has been cut down a third, allowing half 
a pound per person a month, and that al- 
lowance has been struck off for the month 
of December on our card. No one can 
buy ahead, for you can only get your allow- 
ance anyway. It does not bother me a bit, 
for I don't think we need it. Clemence's 
filleul, who is a Belgian, was in last week 
on permission, and he said there was lots 
of sugar at the front, and that he would 
send her a kilo in December for cooking. 
So I know we shall probably have plenty, 
but if it is not hard for you to get, I think 
another box started for us would be wise. 

Milk is also hard to get now; you can't 
get milk after eight o'clock in the morn- 
ing. In a private house that means noth- 
ing, but last week when P was up, he 

said he ordered his coffee about eight-thirty 
at the hotel, and they said it would have 
to be without milk at that hour. And you 
can't get milk anywhere with afternoon tea 
any more. As Moll said, what is to pre- 
vent the cows from giving milk, even if 
it is war? But the truth of the matter is 
the cattle are being consumed by the army, 
and the lack of men results in lack of care 

[ ^6s ] 



You Who Can Help 

for breeding, therefore there is much less 
milk. 

We are all delighted to-day over the 
good results of the Aisne offensive, and it 
is such a help to have this little bit of cheer 
come now. Every inch of ground gained, 
I feel like getting out and waving the flag. 
I don't believe in America one can realize 
what a fighting machine Germany is. 



[ 266 ] 



Paris, November i, 1917- 

The news from Italy, coming just now, 
is too disheartening, and so unexpected. 
Whether the Hun means to get into the 
heart of Italy, or pass through and hit at 
France in a new spot, remains to be seen, 
but we shall see pretty quickly. And those 
poor Italians have done so well, and under 
such difficulties. 

This is All Saint's day, and a real holi- 
day for me, as far as the Alcazar is con- 
cerned, which is quite wonderful. But a 
holiday not only means no Alcazar work, 
but a grand chance to do some of the other 
million things I like to do. 

At present I am tremendously interested 
in a mother and daughter who have been 
sent out as refugees from St. Quentin. 
During these years of the war they had 
been hiding in their house the son, who was 
not strong physically, from the iron hand 
of the Germans. The husband and father 
was taken at once, and sent somewhere to 
work in field or factory for the Germans. 
His fate they never knew. But for over 
two years they kept the boy hidden in the 

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You Who Can Help 

cellar, until, a few days ago, they were told 
to evacuate, and the boy was discovered. 
Naturally his fate is unknown to them now. 

This mother and daughter are people 
of very comfortable circumstances ordi- 
narily, but now suffer the same fate as 
every other refugee. Mile, Fritsch secured 
work for them both, and her concierge 
gave them a garret room, with nothing 
else, for she had nothing to give. I told 
Mile. Fritsch that if she would find a 
couple of rooms for them, which they could 
call their own, I would (out of my 
" fund") pay their rent for a year, and 
through other people get them a few neces- 
sities. At the end of that time, both being 
able to work, they could get on their feet, 
and take care of themselves. We have 
found the place for them, and last night 
they came up, and we fixed up the papers, 
and paid down the first three months' rent. 
I never saw such courage in my life as they 
have, and such gratitude. 

To-morrow, after work, I am going to 
get them a bed (someone has given them 

a mattress) . Mrs. R is going to give 

me a table and two chairs for them, and 
some sheets and towels she brought with 
her. I asked them if they had anything, 
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You Who Can Help 

and the woman told me of the promise of 
the mattress, and said they had towels, for 
they did a few clothes up in towels to bring 
out by hand. And not wishing to take 
from me anything which they had them- 
selves, she said, " If you have towels don't 
give them to us, for we have four; give 
them to those less fortunate who have n't 
any." And to see them, one would never 
suspect they needed anything; for that rea- 
son it is more difficult for them, but they 
have literally nothing. 

Yesterday they saw someone who left 
St. Quentin after they did, who told them 
that everything in their house had been 
taken or demolished by the Germans, and 
if St. Quentin were evacuated to-morrow 
they would find nothing of what was home 
to go back to. 

It is impossible to imagine what one's 
feelings would be, under such circum- 
stances, but their courage is something 
wonderful to see. And they never show 
any bitterness, or wish they could be spared 
facing the future. Instead they show tre- 
mendous gratitude for any assistance, and 
face conditions with the realization there 
are others less fortunate than they are. 

[ 269 ] 



Paris, November 3, 19 17. 

Yesterday morning a dear little French 
lady, with a little black bonnet and a tight- 
fitting, jetted cape, came into my office and 
brought me a diplome de belle action from 
the French Comite National Central, voted 
at their meeting of October 7 in recogni- 
tion of my kindness to the poor soldiers 
blesses et tiiberculeux. Naturally I am ter- 
ribly pleased to have it and will send it to 
you to keep for me, for it will interest 
Moll to have it apres la guerre. The so- 
ciety was founded before the war, for the 
relief of suffering. 

Until two days ago this house was so 
cold that my hand refused to make even 
signs after a couple of hours of writing. 
Now that the heat is turned on we are 
blissfully comfortable. 

We have sent pink pajamas and a pair 
of hospital socks to Moll's filleul, who has 
written that he is in a hospital in Flanders, 
not wounded, but having a lot of trouble 
with his right leg. We have not seen him 
for some time, for he was sent from Ver- 
dun to Flanders at a time when there was 

[ 270 ] 



..... ... ;'m^ 

■';'r >-rL' 







•ft? 









'IB^^. 



You Who Can Help 

too much activity for permissions, but she 
is still faithful. 

I still have the refugee here in the house, 
Clemence's niece. She is normal now, and, 
poor child ! I would gladly do anything for 
her, and Moll is so good to her. Moll had 
a Victor given her, and Eugenie builds a 
fire in Moll's room for her, and takes in 
her tea, and is absolutely happy if Moll 
will start the Victor and let her stay and 
hear it. And Mollie never tires of hear- 
ing of her life with the Germans. 

Marlborough just appeared ! And I am 
too happy to have him back here again. 
He brought a huge piece of the L 49, one 
of the Zeppelins that were brought down. 



[ 271 ] 



Paris, November 27, 191 7. 

Yesterday afternoon I met a charming 
English colonel who has just returned from 
Italy. He was telling of conditions there, 
which are none too cheerful, and his re- 
mark, " This is some war," fully, yet 
simply, expressed the feeling we all have. 

If you could see the pile of letters I have 
before me you would be sorry for me. All 
the women and girls I know at home, who 
are not over here, have written asking me 
to send for them. They 'd better stay 
where they are, and keep up their good 
work at that end, and prepare for what is 
before them, in caring for our own con- 
valescent, blind, and mutilated. That has 
got to come, and the work of that kind will 
not all be here in France. They 'd best 
leave their share of food here for some 
man who has to be here. It is appalling 
when you think of the number of men in 
France to-day from all the Allied coun- 
tries. 

Thousands of women are arriving, and 
such a collection. Many have never stirred 
from their home towns before, and I think 

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You Who Can Help 

It is a crime the way all these young girls 
are flocking over here. What their parents 
are thinking of I don't know. 

I have received the letter written my 
birthday, and in it you said you sent off a 
box of Christmas jokes. How could you? 
I can't even think of a joke. After read- 
ing that I nearly sprained my brain trying 
to think of something funny, but nothing 
came 1 You know, I am getting queer, in 
Paris for the fifteenth month and cannot 
even think of anything funny I 



[ 273 ] 



Paris, December 5, 1917. 
I recently received a case from E- 



in fact two cases, which contained men's 
clothing and endless perfect woolen gloves 
for children, and boys' and men's caps. As 
everything seems to arrive at the right mo- 
ment, these cases did the same. I sent the 
men's caps and suits at once to Mme. De- 
stray, for her reformes and refugees, and 
although I did n't have a chance to go over 
that night, I heard that my sack of cloth- 
ing went in one door and by pieces walked 
out of the other, each article on, and mak- 
ing some man more comfortable and 
happy. The children's gloves I sent at 
once to a little orphanage, which has fifteen 
little girls and is supported by the income 
of the dear little woman who runs it. She 
is seventy-two, and at the present moment 
very ill, but will, I think, get well. Just 
one other woman looks after all fifteen 
children, and if Mme. Anderson should die 
no one knows what would happen to her 
orphanage. 

On Christmas this dear little old lady 
always asks all the poor old beggars of her 

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You Who Can Help 

Quartier for a Christmas dinner, consist- 
ing of soup and meat-and-vegetabie stew. 
They are all welcome, and can have all the 
soup and stew they can eat. The fact that 
she was lying in bed and could do nothing 
this year was not helping her convales- 
cence, but was making her very unhappy. 
So Miss Dagmar and I decided we could 
slip that Christmas party in with the other 
things we are trying to do. She is going 
to be responsible for the poor thing's din- 
ners, and I am going to give the orphans 
a Christmas tree and hot chocolate and 
cakes. Miss Dagmar went to see the dear 
little lady the other day to tell her for 
Christmas Day she would be the grand- 
mere, as the poor all call Mme. Anderson, 
in her arroudissement. She was so happy 
and relieved that her poor and orphans 
would not be forgotten, that she could do 
nothing but weep ! 

This last week I have had the joy of 
giving personally to men who were suffer- 
ing with the cold, and about to return to 
the trenches, each a sweater, scarf, and 
socks, knit by your good workers in An- 
dover. Yesterday a nice little French sol- 
dier came into the Alcazar to help with 
the cases, and was so glad to see me; he 

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You Who Can Help 

said he was at Mme. Destray's canteen last 
Christmas, and remembered me. He is 
now just out of a hospital, the third time 
wounded, and his joy was inexpressible 
that his month's convalescence would not 
be up until after Christmas, and that he 
could go to our canteen party again this 
year. 

He was so neat, and such a well-set-up 
chap, yet he came to me and showed me 
that his neglige shirt was all he had on 
under his blouse. He did n't have an 
undershirt or a sweater, but had a scarf, 
which was doing all a scarf is expected to 
do and more. I gave him an Andover 
Red Cross sweater that I had kept for an 
emergency case in my desk drawer, and a 
nice flannel shirt. Needless to say the man 
was happy, and I know he was warmer. 

To-night before I left my office they 
said an Arab, Mohammed Ab Something, 
was there, with a note officially stamped, 
saying that he would die of the cold if 
warm clothes could n't be procured for 
him. My desk was piled high with work, 
and, knowing I had nothing there for him 
(the A. F. F. W., you know, is just for 
hospitals and wounded), I could only send 
word that if he would come in the morning 
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You Who Can Help 

I would give him a sweater, socks, trench 
shirt, etc., which I could bring from here 
from your Andover work. They said 
he was almost on his knees in grati- 
tude, and asked if he could n't come in and 
kiss my hand! They told him he had bet- 
ter wait until morning, when I gave him his 
things, for I was very busy! So I have 
the Arab's gratitude to you in store for 
me in the morning. 

This started to be a Christmas letter 
but, as usual, I have wandered. But I did 
want to thank you all for making my work 
possible, and I know you will understand 
if my evenings must be spent with some 
of the million things I have undertaken for 
Christmas and my letters for a few weeks 
rather brief. 

I simply cannot help in the work of fill- 
ing comfort bags for our own men, so 
Mollie is going to the Lyceum Club every 
Thursday afternoon until Christmas to do 
this. One of us I felt should share in this 
work, and I could n't send a better substi- 
tute than dear old Moll. 

I had a nice letter from Marlborough, 
who is well. My Christmas letter, queer 
as it is, must go now as it is I It carries all 
my love, and every wish for a Merry 

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You Who Can Help 

Christmas and a Happy New Year, and 
the hope that before another Christmas 
season we may know what peace is, and 
may all be spared to enjoy it together. 
Our thoughts of you all will be foremost 
on Christmas Day, and may you receive 
this before the Fourth of July ! 1 1 

Your foreign " home folk." 



[ 278 ] 



Paris, December 13, 191 7. 

Until after Christmas I must snatch a 
moment here and there to write, and every 
now and then call it a letter and mail it. 
It seems to me never was there more I 
wanted to say, or never was I so full of 
gratitude to the Andover Red Cross. Two 
cases through the Red Cross turned up 
to-day, which gives me more for my hos- 
pitals' Christmas, and four boxes by mail 

from Mrs. G , some from Honolulu, 

and some from New York. Twenty of 

Mrs. G 's children's bags I am going 

to use for my orphanage, and the others 
I gave to Miss Brent to-day; she will take 
them to Nancy to the children's Infirmerie 
there, for she is to be there for Christmas. 
Nothing ever arrived more opportunely; 
now I shall not have to get little things for 
the orphanage, just the useful things. 

The collection of things I have bought 
would fill a book. Mollie took to school 
to-day two dresses, caps, scarfs, and black 
aprons that I had bought for her, for two 
orphans who had just appeared on the 
scene, and were coming to her school tree 

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You Who Can Help 

for orphans, but would get there so late 
that there would be nothing for them. 
Mollie and I could n't think of that, so that 
is attended to. 

The father and mother of my little refu- 
gee girl, the one here in the house, I am 
sending blankets to, and my St. Quentin 
refugees two pillows and a carpet rug. So 
you can see there is nothing that I do not 
buy. We are all doing what we can, and 
you will realize it when I tell you that a 
dear old poilu without any legs is trying 
to get French tobacco for me, for my hun- 
dred bags, for my canteen party. Not one 
cigarette of French tobacco or any pack- 
ages of tobacco has one been able to buy 
in Paris for two weeks at least. And this 
dear old soul thought he had an inside 
track somewhere, and could get me some. 
I hope he has, and it only shows that there 
is not anyone who is not glad to lend a 
hand in bringing comfort and cheer to 
those who are fighting this war for us. 

To-day I had a wonderful example of 
that, when Miss Davidson, who does so 
much for the blind, brought in a most 
charming Frenchman to see me, a most 
perfect type of gentleman in the real sense, 
most refined and highly educated. Both 
[ 280 ] 



You Who Can Help 

his eyes were gone. He said, " No one 
knows how hard it is for me to do nothing, 
when I have friends and comrades in the 
trenches. If I could only take the place 
of some man in an office, and free him for 
the front, I should be happy." He wants 
a position taking dictation on the type- 
writer. He can take either French or Eng- 
lish, and speaks four languages perfectly. 
But to see this tall, well-built, good-looking, 
wonderfully turned-out Frenchman, with 
eyes bandaged and two black patches, 
standing before you, saying, " I know I 
am a inutile, but I can still serve my coun- 
try in some capacit}'; I must do something, 
I can't sit here in the dark and let others 
do it all!" Poor dear — as though he 
had n't given his life for the cause! 1 am 
naturally going to do my best for him. 
You can never know what these men are 
like until our own men who have got to 
meet this fate go home, to be re-educated 
and fit themselves for their life in dark- 
ness. This blindness is too awful. 

This morning Mollie had a note from 
her filleul from a hospital in Boulogne. It 
seems he has been gassed, and it has af- 
fected his eyes; at times he cannot see at 
all, and again he is all right. He was 

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You Who Can Help 

most cheerful, saying his eyes were to be 
operated upon the following day, when he 
hoped to be all right. I do hope he will 
be, for he has done so much, and been 
through so much, that we felt that nothing 
could happen to him. This new gas, like 
everything else, is more awful than the old. 
A wire from Marlborough this morning 
says that he will pass through Paris next 
Tuesday. These visits to Paris I make 
the most of, for he is about to go back into 
the artillery. He is on Major-General 
March's staff as Chief of Artillery Opera- 
tions. Major-General March is in charge 
of all the artillery over here. It will take 
him to another spot entirely, and away 
from all work which will bring him to 
Paris. But we have worlds to be thankful 
and grateful for, and although the next 
few months are far from easy to face, I 
am here, and that is everything in these 
days. 



[ 282 ] 



Paris, December 22, 19 17. 

To-night was the first Christmas party, 
and it was such a success, thanks to you 
and the many good people who sent you 
the money for my use at Christmas. With 
this and Miss Dagmar's untiring efforts to 
get good musicians and plan the entertain- 
ment, and the hundred comfort bags the 
Boston Farmington Society sent to me, the 
party was complete. It even topped off 
with an air-raid alarm before I got home! 
As I had Mollie with me, and Marlbor- 
ough was not in Paris, and I was too tired 
to get disturbed, it was just an added touch 
to the holiday season. 

The party was at Mme. Destray's can- 
teen, and there were one hundred and four- 
teen men there, some of them so happy to 
be back, for their second Christmas in the 
same canteen. Their supper was excellent, 
as it always is, — soup, stew, and vege- 
tables, — and we added wine, cold ham, 
salad, cake, oranges, and sweet chocolate. 

Miss Dagmar fortunately saved up 
enough French cigarettes for the occasion. 
And through a good friend I secured 

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You Who Can Help 

enough tobacco for the hundred comfort 
bags. The place was in holiday attire, 
with holly and greens, and the songs and 
music which they had during supper were 
delightful. 

Much of it was jolly and cheerful, al- 
though the poilu really appreciates good 
music and always sits spellbound. I 
fear the average American soldier is far 
behind his poilu brother in appreciation 
and knowledge of music. Towards the end 
of supper Mollie went about distributing 
the cigarettes and then gave them the com- 
fort bags which had been piled on a table; 
in the center of this table was a dear little 
Christmas tree. 

The bags were splendid, thanks to the 
good people who worked over them, 
though many of them had evidently been 
tampered with on their way over. But 
with my Christmas fund I was able to add 
to them, and they each had pad, pencil, 
envelopes, toothbrush, tooth-paste, socks, 
French-blue handkerchief, pipe, tobacco, 
and either checkers or dominoes. Many 
had names inside, but I knew a poilu could 
never read American writing, so I ad- 
dressed an envelope and put a 25-centime 
stamp on it, and put one in each bag. I 

[ 284 ] 



You Who Can Help 

do hope some of the Farmington Society 
hear from them, but if not, they will have 
to accept from me the appreciation and the 
pleasure I had in seeing the joy it brought 
to the men. 

Towards the end of the evening, after 
supper and after the men had finished ex- 
amining their bags, the doors into the 
courtyard were thrown open, and seventy- 
five or a hundred Americans, headed by 
Doctor Cabot of Boston, sang Christmas 
carols. It was beautiful ! And to see these 
hundred poilus, one by one, grasp the 
meaning and one by one stand facing the 
darkness where these voices came from 
and take off their caps or trench helmets, 
and stand spellbound, was most impressive. 
It was a wonderful sight and one I shall 
never forget. 

After the carols were over and the ones 
who had taken part had left, it began to 
feel like a pretty serious and triste end- 
ing of the evening. But this was all over 
quickly when they asked for the American 
national air, with many a " Five I'Ame- 
rique^ And if anything is ever funnier than 
a handful of people who do not pretend to 
sing bursting forth in their most patriotic 
manner with " Oh, say can you see," usu- 

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You Who Can Help 

ally pitched in high C, I am sure I do not 
know what it is I But our intentions were 
excellent, and a too solemn ending averted, 
and the party finally ended with a glorious 
roof raising Marseillaise. If you could 
only hear a hundred or a thousand poilus, 
in the midst of this too horrible war, throw 
themselves into the Marseillaise as they 
sing it, I should be happy. One could never 
make you understand what it is like; it is 
beyond what mere words can describe. 

After the party was over, although only 
about half-past eight, MoUie and I were 
very hungry, so we decided that the quick- 
est way to get back was to take the metro 
to Passy. We had hardly come out of the 
metro at Passy, when " bedlam " was let 
loose, all the sirens in the world screech- 
ing, and fire engines dashing by. 

The night was glorious, with a full 
moon, and it was hard to tell aeroplanes 
from stars. While we waited for the 
tram, and walked from the end of the line, 
our gaze was all skyward, you may feel 
sure. Nothing happened, and now it is 
two hours after, the " danger past " signal 
has been given, and everything is as calm 
as a May morning. I have sent off my 
eleven poilu packages, and most of them 
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You Who Can Help 

contained some of your good Andover 
sweaters, socks, and mufflers, but not a 
cigarette I They send so much tobacco to 
the front, hospitals, etc., where there is a 
daily allowance, that not one bit of French 
tobacco have I been able to get in Paris 
for a month. A thousand thanks to all the 
good people who sent me money, and 
made these parties possible. 



[ 187 ] 



Paris, December 29, 191 7. 

I must tell you about my orphanage 
Christmas party. I have written to you 
of Mme. Anderson's little orphanage of 
twenty girls, between the ages of seven and 
fifteen, and I told you that she was very 
ill, so Miss Dagmar and I told her we 
would attend to their Christmas. 

Some surprise bags for children which 

Mrs. G sent me from Honolulu came 

to me just at the right moment, and 
they were lovely, and all quite different, 
and she had marked the appropriate age 
on the outside. And with my ever-delight- 
ful Christmas fund, I purchased a soft, 
warm, real wool cache-nez for each child. 
In our part of the world we would call 
them mufflers plain and simple, but as they 
always wind up in them until the nose is 
hidden, the name is appropriate. We had 
sweet chocolate tied up in bright ribbons, 
paper caps (we hope not made in Ger- 
many), and a shining new franc piece for 
each. And we gave them hot chocolate 
and cakes to eat. You would have laughed 
if you could have seen me getting there, 
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You Who Can Help 

the taxi filled with these things, and by my 
side a Christmas tree, with all its little 
trimmings, that we had had on our own 
table Christmas night. 

Some of the girls went over to help us, 
but above all to be audience, for these poor 
little things had learned songs to sing and 
pages upon pages of poetry to recite. I 
wish you could have seen the faces of these 
little souls when they saw their table laden 
with cakes, and the Christmas tree in the 
center with all its little candles burning. 
My idea was to let them begin and enjoy 
it at once, but no, their songs must be sung 
and their poetry recited before anything as 
frivolous as eating could begin. Although 
I appreciated their efforts, I was a bit ab- 
sorbed in whether my candles would last 
and whether the tree would catch on fire 
in the usual fashion. This did not happen, 
and such a thing should really go on 
record! 

Before the children came in, and while 
we were arranging things in the kitchen, 
the brother of the one woman who cares 
for the children appeared. He had re- 
cently lost his wife and child, and felt that 
he must see some children enjoying Christ- 
mas. So we decided he should be Santa 

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You Who Can Help 

Claus, I mean Pere Noel, and bring In 
the presents. He arranged a long white 
beard from some cotton I had brought 
over for snow, and with a blue cape, with 
hood turned up, and the gifts in a large 
pillow-case on his back, to say nothing of 
his cape and pointed hood covered with 
real snow, he was as good a Pere Noel as 
one could wish for The children adored 
it, and he entered into their fun, and con- 
tributed tremendously towards making the 
party a success. 

Although I shall always remember the 
Christmas tree for the children, on the 
after deck of a transport in the middle of 
the Pacific Ocean, as being an interesting 
experience, nothing could make the deep 
impression the simple little Christmas we 
gave to these twenty little orphans made. 
It seemed so strange to have Santa Claus 
look like Santa Claus, and yet speak the 
language of Pere Noel I 



[ 290 -*] 



Paris, January 5, 191 8. 

I have had such a perfect ten days with 
Marlborough here, and although we were 
both busy all day long at our work, we 
were able to have lunch together some- 
where every day. And we also have been 
able to have the evenings together at home, 
which is wonderful. 

Last week came the news that he was 
to go back to the artillery. It means, of 
course, that my chances for seeing him so 
often are a thing of the past. But we are 
both so happy over the fact that he is with 
the guns again, and just where he wanted 
to be, that we are like a couple of kids. 

It takes him absolutely away from duties 
connected with Paris, but during the past 
four months, with his many trips to Paris, 
we have much to be thankful for. I can 
hear from him, and I imagine the letters 
will not be more than a week old. It takes 
five days from general headquarters now. 
We can wire, and off and on I shall see 
people coming and going to his spot, so 
you see I can keep very much in touch. 
Lucky me, to be this side of the Atlantic! 

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You Who Can Help 

I was rather a shirker on work on New 
Year's Day, for we had a holiday at the 
Alcazar, and I had planned to go to Mme. 
Anderson's orphanage and help Miss Dag- 
mar serve dinner to the beggars of that 
neighborhood. Mme. Anderson does this 
each year, for the paupers in her district, 
but this year she was not able to do any- 
thing on account of being ill. But Marl- 
borough was here, and his time was lim- 
ited, so I just did n't go, but, thanks to my 
Christmas fund, I sent a new two-franc 
piece for each, sixty in all. Miss Dagmar 
said that as she pressed the shining bit Into 
each hand as they departed, it was a study 
to see their expressions. Their joy was 
almost pathetic. 

I am thankful for each day that I have 
Marlborough here, and I expect each one 
to be the last. 

I hope our cable went through to you on 
Christmas, but apparently, for weeks, the 
mail and cable have been all tied up in 
double knots. I don't care as long as the 
men down the line, who are, many of them, 
away from home for the first time, get 
their mail. They need it, to keep in the 
best shape. And think of the tons of it 
there must be, and with few facilities to 

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You Who Can Help 

handle it. One cannot expect anything like 
regular service for several weeks yet. 

My one idea these days is to hustle 
through work, so as to get home by the 
time Marlborough does. This business of 
being a working-girl, and having a husband 
on permission, is a fearful combmation. 
One has to be neglected, and you may be 
sure it is my work! 



[ 293 ] 



Paris, January 8, 1918. 

To-day we received a lot of papers, 
among them the Townsman, which we read 
from cover to cover. The Andover boys' 
letters I adore. But the nicest things in 
the world are the letters I am receiving in 
appreciation of my Christmas remem- 
brance to them here, all filled with such 
genuine appreciation of hearing from 
someone so near them who calls Andover 
home. One boy whom I heard from last 
night said, " I did n't think that I had any 
lady friend so near me in France, especially 
one who calls Andover home. It is Home 
Sweet Home to me, and I wish that I 
was there now." Mollie seconds all his 
sentiments, and she is sure he is a fine lad. 

Our last letters were dated Thanksgiv- 
ing, but I know many are on the way, and 
when I think of the size of the trans-Atlan- 
tic mails these days, I wonder we ever get 
anything. 

The winter is cold with lots of snow, but 
a real winter that you don't mind, — noth- 
ing like the rainy, wet, chilly dampness of 
last year. My apartment is most comfort- 

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You Who Can Help 

able all the time, and I have lots of wood 
from the cases in my cellar for days when 
the heat gives out. 

Marlborough left early on Sunday 
morning, and these first few days with him 
away until spring, if not longer, are hard 
to settle down to mentally, but days are so 
full that one has n't time to think of her 
own troubles. Work is one's salvation, 
but there are times when you feel inclined 
to blow up, if it did n't stop for five 
minutes! 

Yesterday when I came home I found 
Mollie holding court in two languages. 
The filleul had arrived unexpectedly from 
the hospital in Pas de Calais, and the other 
was Paul J , who is a captain of en- 
gineers. It seems she would talk with one, 
and then pass the conversation on in an- 
other language. 

The f.lleul has come to Paris for his 
twenty-day convalescence. He is looking 
very well, and after three operations his 
eyesight is all right, but at times he has a 
good deal of pain in his eyes, which he says 
is getting less all the time. He stayed and 
dined with the maids, and then came in and 
played checkers with Moll until her bed- 
time. He had written her he was the 

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You Who Can Help 

checker expert In the hospital, so Moll, 
being from Missouri, wanted to see him 
play. 

This afternoon Mollle took Sophie and 
her brother, who is in the Foreign Legion, 
and here on . permission, to the cinema. 
When he goes back, he Is In the next lot 
to " go over the top," and he told Moll 
that all who lived got the croix de guerre. 
The Foreign Legion Is certainly not 
spared. Fortunately, like all men made 
of the real stuff, he has every confidence 
that nothing can happen to him. 



[296 ] 



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